


Dead Man's Corner

by Pepper Espinoza (pepperlandgirl4)



Category: Original Work
Genre: 70s tropes, Bodice-Ripper, Complete, F/M, Historical, Original Fiction, POV Female Character, Romance, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/Pepper%20Espinoza
Summary: Ford rode into Eliza Quinn’s life without warning, and within twenty-four hours captured her heart, destroyed her home, and pulled her into the middle of a bloody feud—forcing her to fight for her future and their love.





	1. Chapter 1

The cloud of dust on the horizon warned Eliza of imminent danger. She grabbed her gun, a heavy pistol with a cracked butt, before hurrying John Brownstone from the garden to the barn. 

“What’s going on, Mis ‘Liza?” John asked, confused but compliant, as she pushed him up the ladder to the loft. 

“Somebody’s coming. He’ll be here soon, and I don’t want him seeing you, whoever he is,” Eliza explained. “Here, get under this hay.” 

John burrowed into the hay, tossing more over his back. “How long ‘til I can come out?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe he just wants to water his horses. Maybe he’ll want to stay the night.” Eliza shook her head. “I’ll try to get rid of him.” 

“I can pretend to be your boy. Just tell ‘em I belong to you,” John said, looking at her with concerned eyes. “Nobody’ll question it,” he added with his familiar drawl. 

“ _ No _ . You know I couldn’t do that John. Besides, I’ve seen posters with your face. What if he’s seen them too? I can’t risk it. You can’t risk it.” Eliza kissed his forehead, fresh fear crawling up her throat. “Stay here until I come in for you.”

John nodded. “Yes’m.” 

Eliza backed out of the loft, still clutching the gun in one hand. She knew how to shoot, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to aim and fire at a living man. Most likely, the stranger would just ask for a bucket of water and be on his way. But there was always the chance that a bit of water wouldn’t be enough, and nobody could defend the homestead except Eliza herself. 

The cloud of dust grew larger as it approached, but Eliza could tell it was just one man and not an entire gang or stagecoach. She settled in the shade of the front porch, shielding her eyes with her hand to better gauge the stranger’s arrival. It took just minutes from the first sighting for the large, gray stallion to gallop into her yard, startling the dogs lazing in the shade. 

A battered hat obscured the man’s face, shading his eyes. He seemed to be looking at her, but Eliza couldn’t tell.  She pulled herself to her full five feet, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. “What do you want?” She demanded. 

The stranger didn’t answer. Instead, he dismounted from his horse and led it over to the well. She watched silently as he dipped the bucket into the clear water, drinking from it liberally before allowing the horse to drink from the pail. 

“What do you want?” Eliza asked again, once he straightened. 

“I’m looking for a man,” he said, his voice gritty despite the cool water. He approached her, holding the horse’s reins loosely in his hand. “Have you seen any strangers around here?” 

Eliza tensed, tightening her grip on the gun. “There are no men here. There’s nobody here but me.” 

He spat from the side of his mouth, squinting his eyes. “Is that a fact?” 

Eliza realized her mistake, her heart skipping into double-time. “Except my husband, of course.” 

He pulled a thin cigar from his saddlebags, chewing on the end as he spoke. “Where’s your husband? Perhaps he knows who I’m looking for.” 

Eliza hesitated, understanding she had made her second mistake when his eyes drifted past the house to the barn. 

“What’s in there?” He asked. 

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. 

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I take care of my horse? It’s been a long ride for both of us.” His eyes dared her to turn down his request. 

She nodded, taking up his challenge. “You’re welcome to feed and water your horse. He looks tired.” 

Eliza led him to the barn, trying to force her heartbeat to return to normal. It wasn’t just fear that made it race—there was something in the stranger’s eyes, in the way he looked at her. He was a starving man—starving for food, for companionship, and for something else—perhaps the man he sought had something to do with the hunger that lined his face and clouded his eyes? 

“I think I’ll have a look around,” he announced once his horse was safely tethered. 

“No.” Eliza pointed the gun at his chest, waiting until he had his hands in the air before continuing. “Now, you’ve got your food and you’ve got your water. I told you there was nothing else here.” 

He smiled, a sour yet amused action. Without warning, he reached for his gun, drawing it, and shooting the wall above her head. Eliza didn’t even have a chance to blink before he replaced his gun in his holster. “That’s your warning shot,” he explained. 

Eliza slowly lowered her gun. “Why didn’t you just shoot me?” 

“I’m not here to kill random women,” he said, eyeing the ladder. “I’m looking for a man. If he’s here, then I’ll leave without further trouble.” 

“And if he’s not?” Eliza asked, watching him climb to the loft, her heart now in her throat. She had promised John that she would keep him safe, hide him from the bounty hunters, even at the risk of her own life. But now she stood there, helplessly, trying to gather the courage it took to shoot a man in the back. 

“I’ll wait.” 

She held her breath as he moved around the narrow loft, bent low at the waist to keep from smacking his head against the beams. The only sound in the barn was his boots against the thick wood planks—even the horse seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the stranger’s ultimate discovery. His fingers rested on the butt of his gun, a warning and a defense. Eliza had no doubt that if she leveled her gun his direction again, he would turn and fire without thought, guided by instinct. 

When he reached John’s hiding place—and she understood now that it would have been smarter to hide him anywhere else, even the house—he stopped, gripped his gun, and kicked the man hiding under the hay. 

“Stand up,” he ordered. 

Eliza watched as John straightened, his brown eyes wide with fear. She kept the tears at bay, but she couldn’t stop the bile from rising in her throat. 

“Come on, let’s go,” the stranger said, drawing his gun and waving it towards Eliza. 

John didn’t speak. He hurried down the ladder, then put himself between Eliza and the stranger. Eliza knew that he probably wouldn’t kill John—the bounty was higher if he returned the escaped slave alive—but that didn’t alleviate the terror slithering in her stomach. 

“What’s your name?” The stranger asked. 

“John Brownstone.” 

“Do you know a man that goes by Corbett?” 

John shook his head. “Never met a Corbett in my life.” 

The stranger looked to Eliza. “What about you?” 

“No.” 

The stranger still pointed the gun at them, but he seemed to relax. “Has anybody been here, looking for water and a bed? He’s a bit taller than me, rides a black horse, wears a beard.” 

“Nobody matching that description has been in these parts,” John answered. 

Eliza nodded. “We haven’t had any visitors in…months, I’d guess.” 

He holstered his gun, looking pleased. “If he hasn’t been here yet, he will be soon. I’ll be staying.” 

“How…how do you know?” Eliza asked. 

“This is the only bit of water in fifty miles, going any direction. He’ll be passing through. And when he does, I’ll be waiting.” 

He walked over to his horse, pulling the saddle from its back and draping the saddlebags over his shoulder. Eliza and John watched him without moving, both still uncertain about the man’s plans and John’s future. He must have sensed their unease, because he added over his shoulder, “I’m not interested in the Negro. Corbett’s the man I’m after.” 

“Go on back to work,” Eliza said softly. 

John hesitated, clearly unhappy with the thought of leaving her to fend for herself against the stranger. “I’d like to stay here.” 

“I’ll be fine, John. That garden won’t weed itself.” 

He glanced at the stranger then back to Eliza. She nodded with a forced smile, trying to assure him that she would be fine. He finally sighed with a slight tilt of his head. “Yes’m. I’ll get right to that.” 

“Why don’t you come to the house, Mr…?” 

“You can call me Ford.” 

“I’ll have supper on the table soon, Ford.” 

He nodded, falling in step behind her as hurried across the yard to the house. She felt slightly better—she did believe him when he said he wasn’t interested in John. But the apprehension hadn’t completely departed. Who was this Corbett? Why was the stranger…Ford…tracking him? What would happen to her and John now that they were effectively trapped in the middle? 

 

#  **###**

“I’ll take some coffee if you have it,” Ford said, settling at the table, the bags dropped at his feet. 

Eliza nodded. “Yes, there’s still some warm from lunch. Unless you’d like a fresh pot?” 

Ford waved his hand. “Whatever you got.” He looked around the richly decorated kitchen, whistling softly. “Where did you get all this finery?” 

“England. I brought it all with me.” 

Eliza finally had a chance to study his face when he removed his hat, setting it on the table beside his hand. His hair, bleached almost white from the sun, was slick against his skull, giving his thin face a rather severe appearance. His face was marred with wrinkles, but it wasn’t from age—she could see the sun, wind, and rain on his leathery skin. His cheeks and chin was covered with at least a week’s worth of dusty, sweaty hair.  His eyes were a steel gray, his mouth a thin line, his nose crooked from countless fights. 

“And where’s your husband? Did you forget to bring him?” Ford asked, accepting the coffee from her. She noticed his hands were as rough as his face, lined with hard calluses and scars. 

She watched him sip the hot liquid, oddly fascinated by each small movement. “Dead. A riding accident. It’s been a year now.” 

“So it’s just you and the Negro?” 

“John,” Eliza said sharply. 

“What?” 

“His name is John.” 

Ford nodded. “So it’s just you and John? Why not sell? Go back to your people?” 

Eliza stirred the stew simmering in the pot over the flames. Her face and arms burned, but it wasn’t the heat from the fire that made her skin turn red. For the first time since her husband died, she realized how much she missed him…how much she missed having him in her life and in her bed. She had thought that she was over such nonsense. 

“There’s nobody to go back to. Would you like a bath? You look about the same size as my husband, if you’d like a change of clothes. I have a razor as well,” Eliza offered. 

“Perhaps after I eat.” 

Eliza dished up a large plate of stew, adding a thickly sliced piece of bread slathered in butter. Once she set the food in front of him, she refilled his coffee, then settled in the chair across the table. 

“You gonna watch me eat?” Ford asked, though he didn’t seem annoyed. He dug into the stew with enthusiasm, using his spoon and the bread to shovel food into his mouth. 

“I have some questions for you.” 

“Ask, if you think it’ll do any good,” he said around a mouthful. 

“Are you a bounty hunter?” 

Ford shook his head, but didn’t offer any more details. 

“Then what are you?” 

“Just a man.” 

“A man hunting another man. You tracked him in this far, and you think he’ll show up here…” 

“He  _ will _ show up here,” Ford corrected. 

“What’s this man to you if he doesn’t have a bounty on his head?” Eliza asked. 

“Oh, I never said he didn’t have a bounty.” Ford sipped his coffee, leaning back in his chair. “He’s got quite a price, wanted dead or alive, but I’m not interested in collecting money.” 

Eliza laughed. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? The sheriffs pay in gold. Everybody is interested in gold.” 

“Oh, I’m not saying the money won’t be nice. But that’s not what I’m looking for him.” 

“Then why?” 

“He’s a very bad man, and you’re lucky I got here first.” He pointed to his empty plate. 

John stepped into the kitchen then, his eyes immediately drawn to Ford. “The garden’s done, Ms. ‘Liza. Doesn’t grow nothing but weeds and rocks.” 

“Sit down, John. I’ll get your supper.” 

John took the seat Eliza vacated, clearly uncomfortable in Ford’s presence. Eliza wished there was a way she could reassure him, reassure herself, that the stranger wouldn’t harm them. 

“I want to hear more about this Corbett fella,” John said, directing his comment towards Eliza, rather than the man sitting across from him. 

“I’m interested in hearing more myself. I think I have the right, if he’s heading here, like you claim,” Eliza said, setting the plate in front of John. She watched Ford out of the corner of her eye, waiting for his reaction to John’s presence at the table, but he seemed unperturbed. 

Ford picked up his coffee cup, motioning Eliza to refill it. “Corbett was a bounty hunter himself for awhile, and he was a good one. Until he went after the wrong guy. Brought in an innocent man…things got ugly.” Ford shrugged. “He’s wanted for murder now. Rape too. He’s trying to get to Mexico before I get to him.” 

Eliza poured the coffee carefully, focusing on the task rather than the fresh wave of fear. They were only twenty miles from the Mexican border. It did seem likely that this former bounty hunter and current murderer would make a stop there.

“John, will you heat some water while I show Ford to his room?” Eliza asked when both men had finished. 

“Yes’m.” 

“What’s the story there?” Ford asked after John had shuffled out to the yard, a bucket in each hand. 

“Up this way, please. John knocked on my door one stormy night looking for work and a place to sleep, shortly after my husband died. I needed the help, so I offered the spare room near the kitchen,” Eliza explained as she led Ford up the stairs. 

“I want a room facing the road.” 

“Oh, but the master bedroom is the only one facing the road and that’s…” Eliza’s words faded as she realized that he didn’t care. She eyed the gun on his belt, understanding that he  _ would _ shoot her, or anybody, that got in his way, or stood between him and his prey. “That’s right around here. I’ll show you.” 

“I’m mighty obliged,” he said, with the same sour, amused grin. 

He checked the view from the window as soon as he entered her bedroom, drawing his gun to examine the angle of the shot. Eliza was left to wonder if he planned to keep a vigil in the room, shooting Corbett on sight, but she didn’t ask for clarification. 

“John will be up in a moment with your hot water. There’s a mirror,” she pointed to the small, oval shaped mirror on the wall, “if you want to shave.” 

Ford stood in the middle of the room, impossibly tall. Everything seemed to shrink around him as he dominated the space, made it his own, pushed her aside. Eliza swallowed hard, backing out of the room as gracefully and quickly as she could. “If you need anything else, just call…” 

He nodded, already pulling the suspenders from his shoulders. Dust billowed around him. She realized that he might look like a completely different man when he emerged from her bedroom, freshly shaven, in her husband’s old clothes. 

John passed her on the stairs, effortlessly carrying a large bucket in each hand. “He’s in my room,” she directed. 

“Ms?” 

“He claims it’s the best view of the road,” Eliza explained. She lowered her voice, “If he wants anything, just do it. Don’t question him. Don’t give him any reason to come after us.” 

“You think he’s dangerous?” John asked. 

“Well, of course he’s dangerous. But hopefully we’ll stay on his good side.” 

“Did he threaten you?” 

Eliza shook her head. “No, but then, he didn’t really have to threaten me. I don’t want to risk anything.” 

“Yes’m.” 

Eliza decided to wait near the landing for John to return, watching the closed bedroom door with anxious eyes. John emerged minutes later, frowning but unhurt.  _ Of course he’s unhurt _ , Eliza chided herself,  _ Ford isn’t going to shoot him in your own bedroom. _

“How is everything, John?” 

He set the now empty buckets down, resting one hand on the banister. “He wants you to shave him.” 

Eliza caught her breath. “What?” 

“He told me to tell you that he’d like you to give him a shave,” John said with a shrug. 

“Did you tell him that I’m not a barber?”  _ Or his wife _ . 

“No, but I remembered you telling me to make sure he’s happy,” John pointed out. 

“You don’t think I should go in there…is he already…” Eliza blushed, feeling very much like the child she was when she married her husband. “I mean, is he indecent?” 

“Ayuh, he’s in the tub. He seemed pretty serious to me,” he added. 

Eliza squared her shoulders. She shaved her husband every Sunday morning before church…even after he stopped attending church. She may not have been a barber, but she knew what to do with a straight razor. “Well, then, I guess I don’t have a choice.” 

“I’ll stand outside the door,” John offered. 

Eliza thought to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but she only nodded. She knew it would make John feel better if he was nearby, and honestly, it would certainly put her more at ease. She returned to the closed door, knocking on it softly. 

“Come in,” Ford called. 

John had positioned the large galvanized tub near the window, allowing Ford to have an unobstructed view from his position in the water. He was looking out over the flat desert, his face and arms light pink from the hot water and pressing sun. She swallowed hard, but his very presence seemed to suck the air from the room, making it difficult to breathe, or move, or think clearly. 

Eliza redirected her attention from him to the soap and straight razor sitting on the small table beside the bed. Without speaking, she began stirring the soap into foam, unable to ignore the sensation of him watching her. To her horror, she felt a slow blush climb up her neck, coloring the tips of her ears, even spreading to her scalp. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” she murmured. 

“I trust you,” he said, leaning back. He tilted his chin, his eyes closed, waiting for her. 

Eliza pulled her vanity chair over to the edge of the tub, sitting as close to him as she could. She didn’t miss the way he inhaled when she leaned over him, or the soft smile when her breast brushed against his arm. She kept her eyes glued to his face, struggling against the impulse to check out his entire body—to see if it was as hard and rugged as his face. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good…shave,” he said. 

Eliza nodded, though he couldn’t see her. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a company of a good woman,” he continued. 

“Oh? I imagine you’ve been on Corbett’s trail for awhile,” Eliza said, trying to keep the conversation focused on him, and not on her. She slathered his face with the foam, her knuckles brushing against his skin occasionally. 

“Too long. But I plan to end all that soon.” 

A sudden vision of this stranger laying limp on the ground, the life-blood draining out of a bullet hole into the parched soil, overtook her, making her jerk quickly. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head, not noticing the real blood on his cheek until he swore under his breath. 

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” 

He touched his finger to his face before studying the red tip. “I should be fine. Just pay attention to what you’re doing.” 

Eliza nodded, returning to her task. She worked as quickly as she could, eager to finish and escape the ever-shrinking room. He remained perfectly still, but she did catch a quick movement out of the corner of her eye—her blush deepening until she thought her skin would actually sizzle when she realized she could truly see every bit of him and he was fully aroused. 

Below the heat of embarrassment was the unmistakable rush of her own arousal, making her flushed and damp. Her stomach twisted around itself, bending and turning like an angry rattlesnake. It seemed clear to her now that he wanted more than a close shave from her, and a million shards of fear, excitement, anger, and confusion pierced her. What did he think she was? A whore? But didn’t a part of her—a large part of her—want him? Wasn’t her mouth dry at the thought of him touching her? 

Her hands began to tremble slightly. She paused, his right cheek still covered in soap, trying to catch her breath, trying to calm herself. He didn’t move or speak, perhaps sensing the battle being waged in her body—her mind against her instincts, her heart against her flesh. Eliza closed her eyes, counted to ten, and when she opened them, he was watching her. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been with a man?” He asked, his voice casual. 

Eliza jumped to her feet, backing away from tub as though he had hit her. “That’s hardly an appropriate…an appropriate question.” 

“How long?” He asked again, gripping the sides of the tub. She realized with faint horror that he planned to stand up. 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” She set aside the razor. “I think you can finish up on your own…” 

He did stand up now, unabashed. Twenty years of good religious upbringing told her to cover her eyes, hurry out of the room, kick him out of the house, and repent for her dirty thoughts. Two years of loneliness and hunger told her to answer his question honestly. 

“Have you been with the…with John?” Ford asked. 

“No, of course not. I mean…I don’t…not outside of marriage,” she finished demurely. 

He stepped out of the tub, warm water glistening on his body, dripping from his legs as he approached her. Her eyes widened, and she meant to step back, but she couldn’t move. She tried to raise her hand to stop him, tried to call for John, tried to ignore the growing ache in her lower stomach, but she was powerless, paralyzed. 

Eliza thought he meant to touch her, but he stopped at the mirror and picked up the discarded razor. He finished shaving his cheek with narrowed eyes, giving her ample opportunity to flee. Was he testing her? If so, she figured she failed, because she couldn’t take advantage of the long minutes stretching between them. She stood there, helplessly, watching his slow, deliberate movements. 

“I bet it’s lonely out here,” he said, his lips barely moving. 

“It can be,” she agreed. 

“It’s a shame that a fine woman like you is stuck out here in the middle of nowhere…” Ford muttered, as though he was talking to himself. 

“I should go…”

Ford wiped his face with a hand towel, turning to face her when his cheeks were clean. Her assumption had been right—he did look like a different man. Younger, somehow. He approached her slowly, like a cat approaches its prey.  _ One touch, one kiss _ , she promised herself,  _ that’s all. _

But a starving man can’t hold himself to one bite of food. When he touched the side of her cheek with his damp fingers, she realized her foolishness. She had allowed things to progress too far—he wouldn’t let her leave. She licked her lips, watching him watch her. He moved quickly, striking without further warning, claiming her lips before she had the chance to catch her breath. 

He kissed her with the same deadly precision he used to draw his gun. There was nothing playful about his mouth, nothing shy or hesitate about his lips. He knew exactly what he wanted from her, and with a single kiss conveyed what she could expect from him. Her body flashed hot before turning numb, her toes tingling as goosebumps erupted on her neck. She understood he intended to push her to the bed, to finish what he started. 

He lifted his head suddenly, his eyes drawn to the window. “Did you hear that?” He asked. 

Eliza only heard the sound of her heart racing. “No, what…” 

“Ms Eliza!” John shouted, pounding on the door. “Somebody’s comin’. He’s almost here!” 

Ford pushed her away, grabbing his pants and gun belt from the edge of the bed. She watched as he pulled his pants on, looped the belt low over his lips, and reached for his boots, not bothering with his shirt or hat. His eyes were flints, all business. He barely spared her a glance before rushing out of the room, throwing over his shoulder a single order: “Stay out of the way.” 

Like she had to be told. 

“What should I do?” John asked, ignoring Ford. 

“We’ll go wait in the guest room,” she said, hustling him out of the room. 


	2. Chapter 2

Eliza and John huddled in the corner of the bedroom, listening for any sign of danger. She cried out when the sharp report of a gun echoed through the house. John took her hand, trying to smile reassuring, but she could see her fear mirrored in his eyes. 

“Should we go see what happened?” John whispered. 

Eliza shook her head. “No. What if he shot Ford?” But that logically led to the next question—what if Ford was shot but not dead? He could be injured and dying in her yard, and she couldn’t find the courage to go help him. 

“What if Ford’s dead? What are we going to do about Corbett?” 

“I don’t know, John. I don’t know.” 

The question weighed heavily on her as the seconds dragged on. The silence pressed around her until she finally pushed herself to her feet, unable to take the uncertainty for another second. Just as she opened the bedroom door, Ford stepped into the hallway with fresh dust on his pants and a frown on his lips. 

“How many guns you got?” He asked. “Just the one?” 

It took Eliza’s stunned brain several seconds to form an answer. She had believed in her heart that her vision had come true, and now he stood before her vibrantly alive, she didn’t know what to do with herself—or with the fresh emotions welling up in her chest. “Uh…there are a few more.” 

“Where?” 

John stepped out of the room behind her. “I’ll gather them up,” he offered. 

“Thank you, John. Bring them to the kitchen.” 

Ford kept his eyes on Eliza as John passed, but she couldn’t read his expression. “Who…who was that?” 

“One of Corbett’s men. A scout. I didn’t realize he had his gang back together again,” Ford shook his head. “I should have. We’ll have to bury him.” 

“How…how many are in Corbett’s gang?” Eliza asked, her head light. She leaned against the wall to keep her balance. 

“A half a dozen. Maybe more. They’ll be riding hard.” 

“What are you going to do?” Eliza asked. 

“Can you shoot? Or do you just wave that old gun around for show?” Ford asked, rubbing the dirt from his chest. 

“Mostly for show,” she admitted. 

“What about John?”  

“He hunts…” 

Ford nodded. “Right, let’s get to work.” 

“Work?” 

“I’m going to show you how to shoot,” he said, taking her by the elbow and guiding her down the stairs. 

“Shoot? You want me to help with your dirty work?” She asked, appalled. 

“I want you to be able to defend yourself. They’ll do worse than shoot you—but not if you shoot them first.” 

John was waiting for them in the kitchen, four guns and several boxes of ammunition on the table. Eliza poured herself the rest of the cooling coffee, gulping it down despite the cold, bitter taste it left in her mouth. Ford inspected each gun in turn, looking at John when he was finally done. 

“These are good weapons.” 

John nodded. 

“Which one is your favorite?” 

John pointed to the Colt revolver that Eliza also favored. “Aim’s the best with that one.” 

Ford handed it to him, butt first. “I want you to be on lookout. You let me know as soon as you see anybody coming. Understand?” 

John glanced at Eliza, waiting for her say. She nodded, adding a simple, “please.” 

“We’ll be in the back,” Ford continued. “Practicing. Come on.” 

Eliza silently followed him out of the house, allowing him to lead her past her yard into the desert. Once he reached a satisfactory place, he stopped and handed her a revolver. “We’ll start with this one. Now be careful, it’s loaded.” 

Eliza nodded.  “What do you want me to shoot?” 

“That,” he said, pointing to a gnarled, stunted tree at least a hundred feet away. 

Eliza knew damned well that she wouldn’t be able to hit any part of the tree, but she leveled the gun that direction without comment. She closed on eye, attempting to aim, held her breath, and pulled the trigger. The shock from the blast reverberated up her arms, making her muscles ache. She staggered back, unable to catch her balance until he put a steadying hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s got a bit of a kick,” he said. 

“A bit of a kick? That almost knocked me flat!” 

“Try again.” 

“No thanks,” she said, trying to hand the gun back to him. 

“I told you this is for your own good,” Ford reminded her. 

“Well, if they’re coming after me, they won’t be that far away, will they? Likely, I’ll be shooting in point blank range.” 

“You should still be comfortable with a gun. Here, turn around.” 

Eliza sighed, turning her back to him. What he said did make sense, but her arms still ached from the last shot. He stepped behind her, pressing his bare chest against her back, and gripping her hands. 

“Now, aim like you did before.” 

Eliza didn’t think she would be able to aim at a horse one foot away, much less a tiny tree a hundred feet away, with him breathing down her neck. The heat from his body nearly singed her, and she could smell the tantalizing combination of soap and sweat drift from him. Despite the heady distractions, she aimed for the tree, standing with her arms straight out. 

Ford gently guided her hands more to the right, correcting her aim, before wrapping his arms around her waist. “Fire.” 

She closed her eyes as she squeezed the trigger, but he kept her from stumbling back, his arms tightening around her. 

“That was better,” he said. 

“Better? But I…” 

“Do it again.” 

Eliza steadied her arms for one more shot, though tremors of exhaustion made her wrists weak. She could also feel his hard crotch pressed against her bottom, and thanks to his shameless display in her bedroom, she could easily see it in her mind’s eye. She managed to squeeze off one more shot before her arms sagged, unable to remain locked in position. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said. “The gun is too heavy.” 

Ford nodded, but he didn’t step away from her. They stood for several tense seconds, and Eliza didn’t know if he planned to let her go or planned to take her right there in the sand. She also didn’t know what she wanted him to do. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, tickling her with his breath. 

He released her rather suddenly, shaking his head as if he was trying to clear it. “We’ve got a body to take care of.” 

“What about this?” She said, gesturing to the gun. 

“I aint got time to teach you properly. Can you fire it when it counts?” 

“I…I think so.” 

“If you value your life, there won’t be any thinking about it. You just have to act. You understand?” Ford asked, taking the gun from her numb fingers. “Like this.” He spun around without warning and emptied the remaining bullets into a bird perched on the tree. He had the gun tucked away before it even hit the ground. 

“Is that how you shot that man?” Eliza asked. 

“No, we had a nice little talk first. He was quite cooperative.” 

“But you shot him anyway,” she said. 

“Well, I had to. If I let him ride out of here, he’d go right back to Corbett and tell him everything he saw. That’s a good way to make sure we get killed.” 

Eliza understood his reasoning, but she still felt sick at the thought of the dead man outside her house. “What did you talk about?” 

“He told me Corbett will be here by tomorrow, though he could be lying. That was pretty much it.” 

Eliza could tell by the look in his eye that there was more, but she wisely kept her further questions did herself. Did it matter anyway? If Corbett were going to be arriving tomorrow, then Ford would be out of her life by tomorrow night. Which should have been a major relief, but left her feeling a bit disappointed. 

“We can bury him in our cemetery,” Eliza said thoughtfully. “I mean, if you don’t want Corbett to know that you killed one of his men…” Her voice faded as she realized that he was staring at her intently. “It was just a thought.” 

“It’s a good thought,” he assured her. 

The sun cast long shadows on his chest as it sunk lower over the horizon. She shivered as a soft breeze carried a hint of the night air pass them. How did it get so late? “I still have things to do tonight,” Eliza said, “before I turn in.” 

He waved her away. “Go on. I’ll be back in awhile.” 

“You’re sure? I mean…do you need anything else?” 

“Nah, go on in. And don’t bother waiting up,” he added with a crooked smile. 

Eliza nodded, forcing her feet to move, and resisting the urge to look over her shoulder as she walked. 

###

Eliza settled in her rocking chair by the first, a pair of knitting needles in hand. She didn’t intend to wait for him, but as each hour passed, she few more concerned. A million scenarios clouded her mind—and none of them were good. What if Corbett snuck onto the ranch and shot him in the back? What if he was attacked by a cougar, or bit by a rattlesnake? What if he simply rode off in the night, leaving her to deal with a dead body and the crazed man who would come looking for it? What if had robbed her blind? What if he planned to collect the bounty on John? 

Her fears were only laid to rest when she heard the kitchen door open and his already familiar footsteps on the wood floor. She hurried in the kitchen to find him hunting through her cupboards. 

“What are you looking for?” She asked. 

“Booze. I thought you’d be asleep by now.” 

“I wanted to…” Eliza stopped, checking her words. “I had some knitting to do. I lost track of time.” 

“Do you have anything to drink,” he asked, turning to look at her. 

“No. Nothing.” 

“I see.” 

“Do you need…anything?” Eliza asked. “Maybe something for your back? It looks a little red.” 

“I’m fine.” 

She lifted the lamp from the kitchen table. “I’m going upstairs. I can show you to your room…so you aren’t stumbling around in the dark.” 

Ford pointed to the stairs, indicating she should lead the way. She promised herself she would stop at the door, not stepping foot in the bedroom and allowing him to trap her again, but she forgot about her good intentions once they reached the door. 

“Do you need the lamp?” She offered. 

He took it from her, while he reached for her with his other hand. He held the light up between them, allowing her to see his face. She read a simple request in his eyes, a simple need, one that she didn’t want to ignore. Eliza understood if she allowed him to lead her into the dark bedroom, there’d be no turning back. She nodded slightly, not resisting when he pulled her into the room and shut the door. 

Ford set the lamp on the vanity before removing his belt and kicking off his pants. For the second time that day, he stood before her naked and unashamed—and very aroused. The memory of his manhood pressed against her thigh sent shivers down her spine, made her mouth run dry. She stood motionless, waiting for him to come to her, to show her what he wanted. 

Ford crossed the room, standing within an inch of her but not quite touching her. She finally moved to unbutton her dress, but before she could unhook the first button, he gripped the material at her neck and pulled it down, ripping the material from her body without hesitation. She gasped as the cold air hit her skin, staring at the tatter of her dress with an open mouth. 

“I can’t believe you…” 

Ford cut off her words with a kiss, searing her lips with his. He continued to tear at her dress, until it pooled at her feet, leaving her naked and vulnerable. His rough hands accosted her body, almost abrasive against her delicate skin, but making her burn with desire everywhere he touched her. She welcomed his hunger, his need, welcomed the masterful way he touched her as if he were claiming her. 

She fell backwards to the bed, Ford pinning her there with his large body. He ran his fingers down her body, pausing long enough to caress each of her rock hard nipples, before continuing to the juncture of her thighs. He slipped his fingertips between the soft curls, brushing against the wet flesh, before bringing his fingers up to his lips. He licked each one, savoring the taste as though he was enjoying the finest whiskey money could buy. 

A bolt of desire struck her as she watched him, making her already taut body tremble with need. She touched him for the first time, hesitantly running her hands up his arms to his neck, then down the front of his chest. She could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and she could feel the goosebumps that followed everywhere she touched. He shuddered, dropping his head forward, as if he didn’t expect anybody to caress him, to explore the soft bumps and dips of his skin. 

She hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to look at her, kissing him when their eyes made contact. Ford pushed his tongue between her lips, exploring her mouth with boldness. He tasted of bitter tobacco and coffee, but he smelled of sunshine and wind-swept dust. 

Ford pushed her legs open, then thrust into her. She expected this suddenness, and she was prepared for him, but she wasn’t prepared for the sudden assault on her senses, the overwhelming flood of sensations through her body. She wasn’t prepared for the sharp pleasure, the sharper hunger that overtook her with each hard thrust. She wanted to scream with the urgency of it, wanted to shout his name, but she whimpered instead, wordlessly begging him to continue. 

Her experiences with her husband had always been pleasant enough—she enjoyed being close to him, and she enjoyed making him happy, but she never really enjoyed the act itself. Now a whirlwind of colors and sounds surrounded her, her mind turned into a sticky fog, her body felt like warm syrup, and his body above hers felt so solid. She clung go him, her nails digging into his flesh. 

Ford moved with a swift urgency she didn’t understand—as though he expected her to just disappear without warning. The bed shook and rattled, but she couldn’t really hear it over the sounds of their own ragged breathing and moans and whimpers. She felt raw beneath him, exposed, even wild. Given enough time, she thought she’d lose herself completely, leaving nothing but a shell behind. Unable to shake this thought, she felt deep relief when he thrust into her one final time, his body shaking as he climaxed. 

He stretched out beside her, surprising her by pulling her onto his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder, their legs twined together, her body aching to be touched, to be filled again. 

“Give me a few minutes,” he said, his words vibrating through her chest. “Then I’ll be ready to go again.” 

She flushed. Could he read her thoughts? She didn’t even understand where this wanton hunger came from, but it had been building since he fired his first warning shot in the barn, and now she wasn’t sure if she could get enough of him before he left her. She knew better than to ask him to stay. 

Eliza just had time to catch her breath before his manhood nudged her inner-thigh. Without speaking, Ford guided her over his groin, slipping inside her with ease. “Just move like this,” he said, gripping her hips, softly rocking her forward then back. “Yeah, like that. Good girl.” 

His voice sounded like pebbles cascading down a steep hill, his hands like steel on her body. The new position not only shocked her, making her breath come in sharp gasps, but it also stimulated her in ways she had never experienced before. With each slow thrust, he hit her most sensitive spot, sending spirals of tense pleasure through her limbs, up to her head. 

Ford took his time, setting a pace that went from pleasant, to sensational, to maddening. Within minutes, she was straining against his hands, trying to set her own pace, but she couldn’t fight against his strength. He kept their movements deliberate, his face straining, the muscles in his neck and shoulders standing out. 

A wave of pleasure began at the bottom of her feet, slowly pushing its way up her legs, making her muscles warm and constrict. She caught her breath and focused on the way the pleasure seeped up her body with each thrust. Eliza whimpered from the pressure, unable to withstand it without some sort of relief. She tried to tell him that she needed him, needed his help, needed to know what to do because she felt paralyzed but full of light. 

Ford found the swollen nub between her thighs with one rough thumb, massaging it with just enough pressure to send the building flood crashing through her body, momentarily wiping away everything except the brilliant heat radiating from between her legs. She could feel him tense between her legs, his body rising off the bed to meet hers, breath rushing from his lungs in a choked moan as his orgasm matched hers. 

Eliza collapsed on his chest, feeling weightless. He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her against him as their hearts slowed, their breathing returned to normal. She wanted to hear his voice again, wanted to feel his words against her chest. Every moment with him seemed precious, every second in the darkness needed to be cherished and burned to memory. 

“What will you do after you kill Corbett?” Eliza asked, her voice a bare whisper. 

“I don’t know. I never plan that far ahead.” 

“You don’t expect to kill him?” She asked. 

“I don’t expect it to be that easy.” 

“What did he do to you?” 

Ford rolled her onto the mattress, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at her. She saw his thoughtful face clearly in the silver light, and she didn’t miss his distant eyes, as though he was looking far into the past. 

“My brother was the sheriff who refused to give Corbett a bounty on the dead body he brought in—he had the wrong man. Corbett shot him in the back, right in the street, and then he shot both the deputies and my brother’s wife, before riding out of town.” 

“Oh my God,” Eliza breathed. 

“As soon as I learned what happened, I set out to find him.” 

She shuddered, unable to lose the image of his brother lying face down in the road, the scarlet circle on his back growing wider by the second. She imagined his wife rushing out to the street, worried by the sound of gunfire, already fearing the worse. Did Corbett shoot her from a distance, or did she have time to beg him to spare her life? 

Eliza said a prayer for Ford under her breath before exhaustion claimed her. 


	3. Chapter 3

Nobody spoke during breakfast. Eliza served each of the men without meeting their eyes—she knew her pink cheeks and bright eyes would betray her. Ford ate quickly, his guns looking deadly on his hips. John barely touched his food, his attention riveted to the revolver lying near his hand. 

Eliza did her best to pretend everything was normal. After clearing the breakfast table, she started preparing the bread dough to be baked that afternoon. She asked John to bring in water for laundry. She ignored the way Ford paced through her house, checking each window in turn. She wanted to sing or shout to break the silence, but the only sound was of Ford’s footsteps and her hand slapping into the heavy dough. 

“Ms.,” John finally said as the dinner hour rolled by, “there’s a cloud of dust. Somebody’s coming.” 

Ford nodded, his eyes calm. Her heart did a jittery dance before jumping to her throat. She forced herself to speak, the words coming out thick and dry. “What do you want me to do?” 

He pressed the gun they used the day before into her hand. “You go on up to the bedroom. Don’t stand in the window. Don’t shoot, and don’t draw attention to yourself.” 

John stepped forward. “What about me?” 

“Go on up to the loft, and take out as many of them as you can. If you have a clear shot, take it.” 

“What about Corbett hisself?” John asked. 

“Kill him if you get the chance. He’s  _ not  _ getting to Mexico.” 

“Yessir.” 

“What about you, Ford? Are you going to walk out and greet them?” Eliza asked. 

“No, I’ll be taking cover in the house.” He pointed to the large picture window near the front door. “Right there.” 

Eliza blanched at the thought of the broken window and her destroyed furniture, but she didn’t protest. She glanced out the window, startled by how close the riders were. She could see at least a half dozen horses, but there might have been more. 

“Get on out there, John, and don’t start firing until I do.” 

Eliza grabbed John’s arm before he reached the door. “Be careful out there,” she said. “I don’t know how I’ll get along without you.” 

He smiled, taking her hand. “I’ll be back ‘fore you notice I’m gone. Don’t worry about me. I’ve seen much worse than this pack of clowns.” 

Eliza didn’t doubt that was true, but a heavy sense of foreboding descended on her. She couldn’t ignore the part of her heart telling her that this would be the last time she saw her friend alive. He jerked back as she kissed his cheek, startled. They exchanged one final look, and he ducked out the front door, hurrying across the yard to the barn. 

She stood in the hallway, blinking her tears away. Ford put a gentle hand on her shoulder, silently directing her to the stairs. She tried to think of something to say, but none of the words sounded quite right. She did spare one glance over her shoulder as she reached the landing, studying his face one final time before slipping into the bedroom. 

Eliza crouched beneath the window, her head a few inches below the ledge. Soon, the sound of the approaching riders filled the room. She knew without looking when they finally reached the yard—her stomach dropped to her knees, and her grip on the gun turned slick. 

She strained her ears for any clues, too frightened to lift her head to look out the window. Her lungs burned, but she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want this. Why had she cooperated so willingly with Ford? Why did she allow him to bring this hell to her front door? Why did she allow John to be a part of it? But then, what made her think she had a choice at all? 

The first gunshot took Eliza by surprise, a startled yelp escaping her throat. She covered her mouth quickly, her eyes wide, sweat crawling down her skin. There was a long pause after the first report, and Eliza couldn’t help but wonder if they got Ford in one. If so, what would they do? Get some water and leave? Or search the house for spoils? 

The rapid report of several guns eased that fear. Despite the risk, Eliza couldn’t resist peeking over the window. Five men were shooting wildly into the barn and the house, two of their comrades dead at their horses’ feet. As she watched, a third man fell clutching his arm. 

Hope began to blossom in her chest. John and Ford were outgunned, but they had cover and the advantage. She saw one man dive behind the well, and assumed it to be Corbett—he matched Ford’s description and seemed to be the only one smart enough to find cover. 

A man in a gray hat that matched his gray horse fired to his left, aiming for the barn. From her vantage, Eliza thought the shot would be too wide to be dangerous, but within seconds of the shot, she saw John’s body tumble from the barn’s loft. She couldn’t keep the scream from escaping her mouth, drawing attention from all the remaining parties while she cried out her horror. 

“Get that woman,” she heard somebody shout just before a bullet flew past her head and into the wall beside the door. She dropped to the floor, rolling under the bed, hot tears burning her face as great sobs burst from her chest. 

More bullets came in through the open window, each stopped by the opposite wall, a few ricocheting into the ceiling. She tried to stem her tears in the flurry of gunfire, but she could taste death, she could touch her own mortality, and she had never been so helpless in her life. Gradually, the bullets stopped, redirected from her to Ford. 

Eliza bit her lip, her hand still wrapped tightly around the gun. She wanted to have a shot at Corbett’s head, wanted to get her own revenge. But she knew that she’d probably miss him and draw their collective attention again—but if they were paying attention to her, wouldn’t that give Ford the chance to take them out? 

She crawled from beneath the bed, squirming across the floor on her stomach. When she looked out the window again, she saw Corbett still hiding behind the well, and now two men were shooting from the barn. She could see that the situation was hopeless—they could be locked in a standoff all day. Ford was too smart to expose himself to their fire, but he wasn’t in a position to take out any of the three men. 

Eliza distantly heard the sound of shattering glass from below her, but she didn’t spare it a second thought until she heard Ford shouting her name. She backed away from the window, crawling across the room the closed door. 

“What?” She shouted, opening the door just a crack. 

“ _ Get out of the house. Fire! _ ” 

Eliza’s eyes widened—there must be a fourth man and maybe even a fifth waiting for her. Get out of the house and run where? Into their waiting arms. 

“I can’t!” She shouted back. 

“Just  _ go _ .” 

Eliza could smell the fire now. She didn’t want to burn to death, but she didn’t want to get shot either. Biting her lip, she hurried down the stairs, joining Ford in the living room. 

“What should I do?” She asked, ducking below the window. 

“Cover me.” 

“Cover you? You know I can’t shoot!” 

“Look, there are two men in the barn and one behind the house. You keep the two in the barn pinned down. I’ll worry about Corbett and the other one.” 

“What about the fire?” Eliza asked. 

“We’ll have to act quick.” 

“Ford.” 

“What?” 

“I just…good luck.” 

Ford reloaded his guns, his fingers working quickly. “Just remember what I said.” He hurried to the back of the house, into the smoke, and disappeared. 

Eliza nodded, positioning herself beneath the window, trying to avoid the jagged shards of glass littering the ground. Drawing on every bit of strength she had, she aimed her gun at the barn and fired. She ignored the lifeless body on the ground, struggling to keep her tears at bay as she fired again and again. She couldn’t see Ford at all. 

She dropped low when they returned fire, fumbling with the ammunition that Ford had left her, trying to reload her gun. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hit either of them, but she could fire indiscriminately into the barn and keep their attention on her. 

Eliza could feel the growing heat from the back of the house, her heart breaking at the thought of her kitchen being devoured by flames. She forced herself to resist the impulse to abandon her post and run to rescue her treasured belongings. The flurry of bullets going over her head gradually slowed, but she kept shooting. 

Finally, one of the men staggered from the barn, clutching his red chest, waving frantically for somebody she couldn’t see. With a gulp, she aimed—correcting herself slightly as Ford had done the day before—and took half the man’s head off. He collapsed only feet from John. She waited almost a full minute, but the second man didn’t fire. 

Eliza made her decision in a quick second. She pulled her dress off, struggling to remain low to the ground. Once she was free of the material, she hooked the neck on the tip of the gun, then dangled the dress in front of the window. She knew from the distance, the second man might be fooled into think she was foolishly standing by the window. 

It worked. A bullet ripped through the middle of her dress. She reacted quickly, leveling the gun and firing without thought. It felt as though somebody else had taken over her body, like some benevolent spirit was guiding her hand. She fired again, ignoring the kick-back, holding her elbow steady with her hand. She shot a third time, and everything went silent again. 

Eliza expected another gunshot to crash through the silence, but she didn’t expect to hear the sound of two galloping horses. She peeked over the window in time to catch Ford flying by on a strange roan horse, in hot pursuit of two other men—including Corbett. 

The walls around her gave a warning moan, fresh heat bursting through the door that separated the front room from the kitchen. She heard the ceiling collapse. She sent a quick prayer to God, begging Him to spare her life as she clutched her dress and raced out of the house. A part of her expected to feel the searing heat of a bullet ripping through her chest, but there was only silence. Holding her gun at ready, she hurried over to the barn—only to find it empty. 

Eliza shaded her eyes from the sun, trying to spot the horses somewhere on the flat horizon. She spotted them galloping dead west, moving at an amazing pace. She watched them until she couldn’t see them anymore, then collapsed in the dirt. 

A boom louder than thunder shook the earth as the fire consumed the house and the entire roof collapsed. She stared at the house burning merry hell—paralyzed, helpless. The rich smell of burning oak assaulted her nose, and she could only rouse herself when the wind picked up, threatening to spread the burning embers from her home to the barn. 

Acting because she had to, Eliza rushed into the barn. She planned to bridle the three horses and hobble them in the yard, but the smell of the fire drove them crazy. They reared in their stalls, their hooves beating against the wall, their ears back and their eyes rolling. She knew the only way to save them was to open the doors holding them in, but if she did, they would bolt. And she’d be left stranded. 

Eliza flung the doors open, barely moving out of the way of their stampeding hooves. She watched with resignation as they tore out of the yard, running as fast from the danger as they could. She couldn’t blame them. 

When she stepped out of the barn, the blackened skeleton of her home didn’t attract her attention, but rather John’s beloved face. Charred bits of wood drifted through the air, landing on his face and clothes. She rushed over to him, beating the sparks away, silent sobs shaking her body. She didn’t have time to cry, but the adrenalin that kept her moving before was beginning to wear off, leaving her feeling empty. 

Even so, she looped her hands under John’s shoulders and began pulling him backwards, out of the reach of the spreading fire. She backed up several hundred feet, to the far edge of her yard, before crumpling like an empty flour bag. She desperately needed water, but she didn’t have the strength to walk the distance that now separated her from the well. 

Eliza remained motionless on the ground, watching her house bend in the heat, before finally collapsing on itself after several hours, then burning out. It never spread to the barn, and for that she was grateful. She lost her horses, but at least she would still have shelter for the night. But after the night, she didn’t know what she would do. No food, little shelter, no horses, and at least fifty miles from civilization. 

###

Dawn found Eliza in the graveyard, painstakingly digging a hole beside her husband’s remains. Her arms ached, her back screamed with agony, and her legs were so stiff she could barely walk. But regardless, she would not leave John exposed to the elements. He deserved a proper burial. She would see to it. 

Lost in her own world and agony, Eliza wasn’t listening for the sound of approaching horses. It never occurred to her that Ford or Corbett would return. She assumed she had seen the last of both men. Visitors were rare—they may be one of the water stops along the road, but the road itself was hardly used. She didn’t notice Ford until his shadow fell across the shallow grave. 

Eliza backed up quickly, tripping over her own feet and falling backwards to the freshly turned earth. She tried to keep moving, her tired brain screaming at her to run, not distinguishing Ford from the men who had fired on her. He grabbed her arms, hauling her to her feet, despite her continuing struggles. She pounded against his arms and chest as hard as her sore arms would allowing, kicking at his shins, turning and twisting her body. 

“Eliza!” Ford shook her. “Look at me. Stop it. Eliza.” 

His words finally penetrated the fog around her brain. The fight drained from her body, leaving her sagging in his strong arms. They remained motionless in each other’s arms for several minutes. Tears clogged her throat, but refused to fall from her eyes. A hundred questions crowded her mind, but she was scared to ask them. She didn’t want to risk hearing the wrong answers. 

When Ford finally released her, he led her away from the grave, silently handing her his canteen of water and jerky from his saddlebag. She accepted both with a small smile of appreciation. As she ate the make-shift meal, Ford picked up her shovel and continued to dig the grave. 

Ford had the grave dug, John interred, and the hole filled in again before the sun reached its pinnacle in the sky. Eliza watched without speaking, not even offering a few words once Ford covered John’s body. She couldn’t force sound past her throat. She said a prayer in her heart, pleading with God to bring John’s soul to peace, but beyond that, she felt nothing but numbness. 

“Did you sleep?” Ford asked, after he tossed the shovel aside and brushed the dirt from his hands. 

Eliza shook her head.

He looped the horse’s reins in one hand, taking her elbow with the other. He led her to the barn, the horse loping behind them. 

“I don’t want to stay here,” she said, stopping at the door of the barn. 

“It’s the only shelter for miles.” 

“I can’t stay here,” Eliza said, her words rusty. 

Ford nodded. “I’m headed to Santa Fe to pick up the bounty.” 

“Are you going to leave me there?” Eliza asked, more tired than curious. 

Ford pulled a cigar and a match from his pocket. Sliding the match along the bottom of his boot, he studied her with narrowed eyes. She stood still, her face passive. He lit the cigar, smoke curling around his head. She began to wonder if he had heard the question at all. 

“No,” he finally said. “I don’t intend to leave you there. You’re welcome to come along with me to California.” 

“What’s in California?” 

He mounted the horse, offering his arm to her. She took it, allowing him to swing her over the back of the horse. “The cattle ranch I’m going to buy with my new gold.” 

“Sounds wonderful,” Eliza said, wrapping her arms around him. 

Ford kicked the horse into a hard gallop. Eliza closed her eyes as they left the charred remains of her former life behind. 


	4. Chapter 4

Eliza stared at the blanket of stars as she listened for any sound of trouble. There could be bandits lurking in the clear desert night, waiting for her to fall asleep so they could slip into the camp and kill her. She jumped every time a twig snapped, the innocuous sound amplified by the high rock walls surrounding them. Her skin crawled, her active imagination creating a hundred scenarios and visions that plagued her every time she closed her eyes. A bullet in the back of her head, a knife in her throat, a strange man pawing at her with forceful, dirty hands—nightmares surrounded her. Eliza longed for the security of her own home, the safety of her large bed that her husband had carved himself as a wedding present. The force of this longing sent silent tears rolling down her cold cheeks. 

She never heard a murderer’s footstep, but she did hear a wolf howling in the distance, his brethren joining the chorus as the moon rose higher. A coyote yipped. An owl swooped through the sky, screeching as it closed its talons around its prey. Eliza tensed with each new sound until she thought she would shatter. Her mind couldn’t stand the pressure. 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ford said, his voice soft and confident, from the other side of the fire.  

Eliza turned towards him, studying his face in the dancing flames. He seemed relaxed, at ease in the wilderness. Of course he would. He wasn’t accustomed to civilization, and he had no use for large, safe houses, and big, comfortable beds. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” she said, her teeth chattering as a sharp chill swept through her. 

“Move closer to the fire,” he encouraged. 

“I can’t without sitting _in_ the fire."

Ford stood up, tossing more fuel on the flames before joining her in her makeshift bed. He settled behind her, his chest against her back, his arm wrapped around her waist. She pillowed her head on his shoulder, warmed by his body, though the nervous fear did not abate. 

“I’m slowing you down, aren’t I?” She asked. 

“I’m in no hurry.” 

Eliza supposed that was an answer to her question. This was their third night in the desert. Ford didn’t say anything, but she knew he could push on, ride hard, and reach Silver City in three days, all said. Instead, they were closing in on their fourth morning, and she estimated they were only about half-way there. Eliza wasn’t accustomed to the same abuse Ford’s body could take. The heat from the sun sapped her energy, the rationed water did nothing to quench her thirst, and the long hours on the back of Ford’s horse made her backside and thighs ache until she couldn’t walk properly. 

“We’ll be hitting Dead Man’s Corner tomorrow, around dinner time,” Ford said. 

“Dead Man’s Corner?” 

“Mining camp. We can catch a coach from there up to Silver City, and a train from there to Santa Fe. Sleep in a real bed too, I believe.” 

Eliza closed her eyes. “And a bath?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

She was relieved to hear about the stagecoach and the train, thinking they would have to travel the full six hundred miles on the back of the damned, swaybacked horse. “Then from Santa Fe to California?” 

“All the way. Non-stop.” 

“Have you been there before?” Eliza asked. She had heard of the beauty of California. The endless possibilities still there for a man with a bit of money and a lot of brains. The gold. The cattle ranches that spread for miles and miles. Eliza didn’t quite believe such a place  _ could _ exist. It seemed especially hard to believe in this slice of heaven on Earth while stretched out on a bed of sand, surrounded by harsh land and harsher men. 

“Been up to San Francisco once. Didn’t suit me.” 

Eliza smiled, trying to picture Ford in the middle of a bustling, hectic city. She had no doubt that he could take care of himself in a frenzied crowd of people, but a man like him wouldn’t be comfortable surrounded by a sea of humanity.  

“We won’t be going to San Francisco, then?” 

“No, I’m not interested in digging for gold.” 

_ He’d rather kill for it _ , she thought, but she didn’t say it. So what if it was true? He wasn’t doing anything outside the law, and if Corbett had been as bad as Ford claimed…

Well, the ass did burn down her house and shoot her best friend.  

Eliza blushed, shocked by her own thoughts. She had never used profanity in her life, but now the language of frustration, anger, and even brutality wormed its way daily into her thoughts. Corbett  _ was _ an ass, the swaybacked horse  _ was _ damned, and sometimes she hated Ford just a little for what he had done to her life. 

Eliza tried to bury the hate under her gratefulness, striving to remember that if Ford hadn’t come back for her, she probably would be nearly dead by now—either from hunger or exposure.  How many times had Ford swept through somebody’s life, shooting and fighting without thought, destroying everything they owned with a few careless actions? Had he left behind a trail of destruction in his hunt for Corbett? 

“You can sleep,” he said, “I’ve got lookout. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

“I know,” she murmured. She needed to sleep. She needed to save whatever strength she could. But her mind was too busy, jumping from thought to thought like a bee buzzing from flower to flower. She landed on an old question, one she never had the chance, or the courage, to ask before.  “Ford, how did you kill Corbett?” 

“Shot him.” 

Eliza sighed. “Yes, but how?” 

“Chased him down to a cave. Apparently, he had been injured at some point. John must have got him before he died. I put him out of his misery.” 

“Did he…see it coming?” 

“I didn’t shoot him in the back, if that’s what you’re asking. It was a fair fight. Now, will you sleep?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“What are you afraid of, Eliza?” Ford asked. “Are you afraid of the wolves? They won’t come sniffing around the fire, and neither will the coyotes.” 

“I know. It’s not the animals…” 

“You think there are men out here? Maybe more from Corbett’s gang?” He asked. 

Eliza nodded. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them…” 

“Who?” 

“Corbett’s men. I never saw men so ugly in my life. Men who didn’t think twice about shooting at an innocent woman, or burning her house down. I never…I never knew that sort of person existed.” 

“It’s a rough lesson,” he conceded, “one that most people don’t learn, and shouldn’t learn, really. Ugly men like that should be my concern, not yours.” 

“I can’t help it.” 

“What about your husband?” Ford said. 

“What about him?” 

“What was he like? How did you end up out in the middle of nowhere by yourself?” 

Eliza took a deep breath, trying to find answers to his questions. She understood he was just trying to distract her from her fears. She appreciated the effort. “Jake was looking for silver, and he found water instead. He thought a settlement would start, sooner or later, so he put in a claim for the property, built the huge house, and sent for me. I traveled all the way from England to be with him. He promised we’d be wealthier than anybody who found gold, because they would need water to live.” 

“He wasn’t wrong,” Ford said. 

“No, of course not. But he found water in the middle of nowhere. There were no miners, no settlement, no travelers, nothing.” Eliza sighed. “I wasn’t raised to live life on the frontier.” 

“No, I imagine you are accustomed to finer things.” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I guess you have two choices then, don’t you?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Adapt and survive, or die.” 

“I’m adapting.” 

“You’re trying, and that’s worth something.” 

Eliza felt a twinge of guilt. She knew what he meant. She was trying, but she wasn’t succeeding. She hadn’t adapted, and as long as she held him back, they would both be in danger. She imagined if she had been born and raised in America, she would have learned to ride before she could walk, and shoot by the time she entered primary school. She imagined the American women were just from a tougher stock. They wouldn’t be helpless and dependent on any man…especially men like Ford. 

“When did he send for you?” 

“Three years ago.” 

“And you were on that little patch of the land the entire time?” Ford asked. 

“Yes. I wanted to go into town for church at least, but Jake always said it was too far for me to travel.” 

“I’m not surprised he wanted to keep a woman like you to himself.” 

The comment sounded like more than just a compliment. “What do you mean?” 

“Fine women are rarer than gold around these parts. Whores are fine to pass the night with, but when men get rich, they start looking to settle…” Ford paused for a moment before adding, “Or they just get tired of the whores.” 

“I see.” 

Ford tightened his arms around her, silently reassuring her. Nothing was going to happen to her. Nobody was going to hurt her. He would take of her. That was his silent promise, one that she tried to have absolute faith in. She knew he wouldn’t back down from a fight. She also knew that he was only one man.

Eliza stiffened as she felt the hem of her dress slide up her legs. Ford pulled on her skirt, revealing her skin slowly until her legs to the top of her thigh were exposed to the cold night. She caught her breath, remaining still, waiting for him to continue. He slid his hand between her legs, cupping her mound, his breath low in her ear.

“Do you want me to go on?” Ford murmured. 

Eliza could only nod, her pulse already hammering. Eliza didn’t understand how a simple touch could make her heart pound, could make her stomach flutter until she had a hard time catching her breath. One simple touch, and she forgot about the wolves, forgot about the coyotes, forgot about the men she saw every time she closed her eyes. His rough hands were so gentle, but she could feel the strength in his fingers. He could snap a person’s neck, but he cradled her with infinite care. 

Ford slid his hand beneath her thigh, lifting her leg and draping it over his. He kissed her neck, face, and the bit of skin exposed on her shoulder as he fumbled with his pants, freeing himself. She could feel the tip of his manhood, hot and slick, against the back of her thigh. She shivered with anticipation, arousal making her wet and flushed. 

Eliza stared at the stars as he eased himself into her passage, moving until he was completely buried in her flesh. She caught her breath, holding it, feeling him twitch and move within her. Experimentally, she clenched her muscles, thrilled to hear his groan as she tightened around him. She wished she could see his face, but she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to change a single thing. 

Relaxing against his chest, she allowed him to rock her gently, barely pulling out of her before thrusting forward again. Her desire smoldered, a smoky, foggy longing that clouded her brain, settled in her chest, made it difficult to breathe. Eliza felt her body straining, climbing, slowly ascending the peak, brought down a little each time he pulled out, but moving forward each time he thrust deep inside of her. The stars above her head spun out of control, her vision blurring, the gold and blue of the night running together and covering their bodies. 

Eliza choked back a moan as her body convulsed, every muscle tightening and then releasing, carrying her breath away in the way of quiet bliss that swept through her. She sighed, melting against Ford, feeling like no more than a rag doll. She felt him jerking and pulsing inside of her, heard his quiet gasp of relief, but she noted that he didn’t pull himself out of her. 

“Now,” he said in her ear, “close your eyes. Go to sleep.” 

Eliza complied, letting her eyes fall shut. She missed the stars when she could no longer see them, but she didn’t open her eyes again. Ignoring the wolves’ new chorus, she focused on Ford’s steady breathing, easing hers until it matched his. She inhaled with him, slowly exhaled, held it, inhaled again. The unchanging rhythm eventually lulled her to sleep. 

As she drifted away, she imagined what it would be like to fall asleep in Ford’s arms every night, beneath a heavy down quilt, cradled in a feather mattress. That’s what he promised. That’s what she held onto when nothing else would sooth her. Eliza didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was only a dream, and not a vow like she had assumed. 

###

Ford’s prediction had been accurate. They reached Dead Man’s Corner by dinnertime, though to Eliza’s curious eye, it looked far more like a real settlement instead of just a small time miner’s camp. Real buildings made from imported wood lined the town’s main street—three saloons, two hotels, a sheriff’s office that doubled with the post office, the magistrate, and a bank. People crowded the streets, moving about their business, though Eliza noticed they were all men. If there were any women in Dead Man’s Corner, they were tucked away somewhere out of sight. 

“I thought you said this was just a mining camp,” she said. 

Ford guided the horse to the Gold Standard Hotel. “Things move quick in these parts.” He dismounted, looping the reins around the hitch post. “Come on.”

Ford lifted her off the horse, and Eliza didn’t miss the way several men stopped to stare at her as they entered the hotel. Her flesh crawled with the weight of their eyes. She half expected all of them to follow Ford into the hotel, trailing after her like dogs trailed after a bitch in heat. She looked down, keeping her eyes trained on the back of Ford’s boots. It was best to just ignore them—it may take only the briefest glance to encourage them. 

“What can I do for you?” The small man behind the counter asked. He looked as out of place as Eliza felt. He appeared to be a transplant directly from New York. One that not only didn’t mind the difference in his dress and demeanor than his customers, but also reveled in it. But in one thing he was just like the other men—he couldn’t resist leering at her either. 

“I’d like a room.” 

“For you and your…wife?”  _ Wife _ sounded like a curse rolling off his tongue. Eliza shifted her weight. 

“Yes.” 

“That’ll be five dollars,” the clerk said, holding out his hand. 

“For the night?” Ford asked, his voice flat. 

“Yes.” 

“Then we’ll go across the street,” he said, turning to the door. Eliza’s stomach rolled. She didn’t want to pass through the horde of men again. 

“You’re welcome to, but they’ll charge you six.” 

Ford paused. “I see. Why don’t you show us to our room then?” 

The clerk rang a bell with a tight smile. Seconds later, a woman with too much makeup and too many long nights behind her sauntered into the room. Her face might have been pretty once, but now she looked almost disfigured—a broken nose that had set incorrectly, faded bruises on her cheek and neck, garishly painted, swollen lips, and two missing teeth. 

“What do you want, Daddy?” 

_ Daddy _ dangled a key from his finger. “Take them up to the Presidential Suite, Clara.” He smiled at Ford. “It’s our finest room.” 

Clara giggled, covering her mouth with red talons. “A’ course, Daddy.” 

“Go on,” Ford said, without smiling. 

“And welcome to Dead Man’s Corner,” the clerk yelled up the stairs after them. 

Clara led them to the door at the end of the long hallway, dropping the key on the side table once she pushed it open. “Here it is. Supper is served in the dining room at seven.” 

Ford nodded, ushering Eliza into the room. She waited until Clara left before shuddering. There was a bloodstain on the floor beneath the window, another one on the wall, and pink splatters on the bed. 

“This is awful,” she whispered. 

“It’ll do.” 

“How far is the next town?” Eliza asked. “Maybe we should just keep riding.” 

“No, we need to rest.” 

“But here? It’s so…” Eliza shook her head. She didn’t know how to describe the feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach. It was more than fear. Dread? Disgust? 

“It’s no different than any other mining town. You’ll get used to it,” Ford assured her, walking over to the window. 

“Get used to it? We’re not staying that long, are we?” 

“We’ll leave as soon as I can secure a coach.” He moved away from the window, crossing the room to the door. “Lock this behind me. Don’t open the door for anybody. Understand?” 

“Of course.” 

“I’m going to take care of the horse and have a look around town. I’ll be back before supper.” 

“You mean to leave me here by myself all afternoon?” She asked, aghast. 

“You’ll be fine. Have a nap. But remember, don’t let  _ anybody _ in this door.” He palmed the key, tipped his hat, and slipped out of the room, leaving her before she could further protest. 

Eliza hesitated in the center of the room, unsure of what to do. Her skin itched, covered in sweat and sand, as did her scalp. With a sigh, she peeled her clothes off. She looked at the bed, longing to stretch out and follow Ford’s instructions to take a nap, but what might she discover beneath the blankets? More blood? Filth? 

Holding her breath, she grasped the top of the quilt and pulled it down, revealing the mattress an inch at a time. There were no bloodstains on the sheets, but even so, she couldn’t help but wonder how often those sheets were changed. 

“It’s not going to kill you,” she murmured. 

A sharp knock on the door saved her from testing that theory. She jumped, reaching for her discarded dress. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Bill.” 

She didn’t respond.

“The clerk,” he added quickly. 

“What do you want?” She called. 

“Your husband sent me up to…change the bed linens.” 

Eliza frowned. “He did?” 

“Oh, yes ma’am. I promised him I would take care of it myself.” 

Eliza bit her lip, remembering Ford’s warning.  _ Don’t let anybody in, no matter what _ . “I’m sorry. Perhaps you can change the linen while we’re eating supper.” 

“But I think it’s best to do it now. I have fresh, clean sheets here for you. It’d be a shame to let them go to waste.” 

Eliza backed away from the door, suddenly wary. Something about the tone of his voice sounded wrong. “No…no…I’m fine. Thank you.” 

He hit the door, hard enough to make it shake in its frame. “Let me in.” His words took on a threatening edge. “Open the door.” 

“Go away!” 

“Open the door!” 

“Go away! Leave me alone.” 

He hit the door again. Eliza wondered if he would knock it off its hinges. He didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d break down a door to get to a woman, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She quickly dressed, grimacing as she pulled the stiff, filthy material over her head, then grabbed the heavy glass pitcher from the table. 

Eliza stood beside the door, remaining still as he hit it again and again, each time making the wood moan a little louder. She was bitterly amused to find herself wishing that Ford had left a gun. He must have known that she was in some sort of danger, or else he wouldn’t have warned her not to open the door. 

It shuddered once more before falling open, revealing a red-faced, panting, disheveled hotel clerk. She brought her arms down as hard as she could, channeling all her anger, confusion, exhaustion, and frustration into the action, swinging the pitcher with all her weight and might. It crashed against his forehead, shattering in her hand. He paused, looking at her with confused eyes, before falling face first to the floor, among the shards of glass and splinters of wood. 

He was not carrying clean sheets with him. 

Eliza stepped out of the room, making sure the loud crash of the door didn’t attract any attention. Nobody was in the hallway. She waited another several seconds, holding her breath, until she could be certain nobody would investigate the sounds. Biting her lip, she studied the unconscious man. It would be easier to pull him the rest of the way into the bedroom and shut the door, or rather, prop the door closed. When Ford returned, he could…do something…Eliza wasn’t sure what. 

Taking Bill’s hands, she pulled him the rest of the way into the room, trying not to think of the last limp body she was forced to drag across the ground. Leaving him in an undignified heap on the floor, she managed to push the door closed, securing it by propping the chair beneath the knob. 

“Come on, Ford,” she whispered, perching on the edge of the bed. “Come on.” 

Eliza watched Bill for any sign of life, never looking away from his body. If he did wake up, she didn’t know what she’d do. Bashing him over the head again might be her best option, but she didn’t have another weapon on hand. As the minutes crawled by, finally marking an hour, and he still didn’t move, another horrible thought occurred to her. What if he didn’t wake up at all? What if she had crushed his skull? 

“He deserved it,” Eliza assured herself, but that didn’t change the sick feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want another man’s blood on her hands. She wasn’t made to be a killer. She wasn’t like Ford. 

Gathering up her skirts in one hand, she crouched beside Bill’s unconscious body, feeling for a pulse on his neck. She found one, but it was very faint. When she pulled her fingers away, they were slick with blood. Fighting the urge to puke, she stumbled back, noticing for the first time the small pool of crimson beneath his face. She covered her mouth in horror, spreading the blood from her fingers to her face thoughtlessly. 

Ford broke into the room as she was moving backwards, his gun drawn. “What’s going on here?” He demanded. 

Eliza pointed to the dying man, struggling to find the words to explain the situation. Ford crossed the room, stepping over Bill without a second glance, taking her by the shoulders. “What happened? Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head. 

“What’s with the blood? Are you bleeding?” 

“No…No…It’s his.” 

Ford finally looked down, studying the man he nearly stepped on in his hurry to get to Eliza. “What happened?” 

“He…He knocked on the door. He said you sent him up to change the sheets. I told him to come back when you were here. He kept knocking and shouting…So I used the pitcher on him….” 

“He busted down the door?” 

She nodded.

“Dog fucking bastard,” Ford muttered, his mouth in a thin line. “

“I think he might be…dying…” Eliza said. 

“So?” 

“We can’t just let him die here.” 

Ford nodded. “You’re right. We’ll let him die in the lobby.” He released Eliza, bending to push Bill onto his back. 

Eliza blanched at the sight of Bill’s stained, lifeless face. A giant gash just above his eye still seeped blood. 

“Good hit.” 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she muttered. 

Ford glanced up. “None of that. What do you think would have happened to you if you hadn’t hit him?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You damned well do.” He pulled Bill into a sitting position, then hefted him over his shoulder as though the hotel clerk wasn’t anything more than a sack of corn. “Stick with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight.” 

“I don’t want to go down there,” Eliza said. 

“You’re safer with me,” he pointed out. 

Eliza nodded, gripping his free arm. What was the punishment for bashing the clerk over the head? Would there be some sort of recrimination? If so, Ford didn’t seem the least bit concerned. He sauntered down the stairs to the lobby, confident, and even amused, judging by the small smile on his mouth. Eliza tried to mimic his cool confidence, keeping up with his pace and keeping her eyes level. 

Ford walked over to the counter, ringing the bell that had summoned Clara earlier. She ambled out of the backroom, a bottle of booze in one hand, a smile on her face. “Yes?” She drawled. 

“You better see to him if you don’t want him to die,” Ford announced, dumping Bill on the floor. Eliza couldn’t suppress her wince at the unmistakable sound of his skull against the hard wood. 

“Oh my god!” Clara shrieked. “What happened?” 

“He tripped,” Ford said.  “While changing the sheets. We need a new room.” 

“Changing the sheets? Bill didn’t change no sheets, he…” Her words faded as Ford caught her eye. “I…You need a better room? No problem. Let me just grab your key.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Ely!” Clara shouted, “Get out here!” 

“Yes’m?” A young, daft looking boy shuffled out of the backroom. 

“Take Bill here in the back, get him cleaned up. I’ll be down in a moment to bandage his head.” 

“Yes’m.” 

“Tripped, huh?” Clara said as she led them back to the second floor. “He’s a clumsy one, is Bill. Drunk too. Well, here’s your new room. Enjoy.” She pressed the key into Ford’s hand before making a quick exit. 

The room was about the same size as the previous one, but far less disgusting. Eliza looked at the clean bed with a sigh of appreciation, stripping her dress away as she walked across the room. She was naked by the time she hit the shame, her shame forgotten. She was too tired to be embarrassed in front of Ford. But she didn’t look at him until she was safely under the blankets, her body completely covered. 

“You get some sleep,” Ford said, settling in the chair near the door. 

“Are you leaving again?” 

“No. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Eliza nodded. “When will we be leaving? Tomorrow morning?” 

Ford pulled his gun from his side holster, inspecting the barrel. “I’m not sure.” 

“What? We can’t stay here. What if that man dies? Then I could get arrested!” 

Ford almost laughed, but the sound was choked and gritty. “They won’t come after you for hitting that piece of shit. Don’t worry about it.” 

Eliza rolled over to her side, trying to enjoy the clean sheets, the soft mattress, the warm afternoon sun against her face. The only thing that brought her a modicum of comfort was the soft, already familiar sound of Ford cleaning his guns. 


	5. Chapter 5

Ford walked into the bustling dining room like he owned the hotel, Eliza on his arm in her soiled, smelly dress. He had assured her that they would get it washed before they left—and he would buy her a few new dresses himself once they reached Silver City. Eliza wished she had perfumes or soaps to cover the smell of perspiration and dirt, but once she stepped into the midst of men shoveling their faces with unidentifiable gruel, she realized it didn’t make a difference. 

Every man in the room looked up as Ford pulled the chair away from a table for Eliza’s benefit. She settled herself, painfully aware of each narrowed eye trained on them. The room reeked of alcohol, burnt food, sweat, and bad breath. The rancid smell of unwashed men hung in the air, masking her own indelicate odor. Above the rancid smell was a cloud of bitter cigar smoke. Eliza wished she had a handkerchief to hold against her nose. 

“Are all these men looking at you or me?” She whispered. 

“Probably haven’t seen a pretty thing like you in months,” he said. 

Eliza found she no longer had an appetite, but she forced herself to smile and nod when Clara slapped a plate down in front of her. Eliza noticed the rest of the guests all stood in line for their food. Ford dug into his dinner with the same enthusiasm as the rest of the men, just pleased to have a hot, filling meal. Eliza thought she could weep. She wanted to be in her own home, in her own kitchen, making her own food. 

“Eat,” Ford said, when he noticed she didn’t make a move towards her plate. 

“I don’t know if I can…” 

“Eat it. You’ll be sorry if you don’t.” 

Eliza thought she would be more sorry if she did, but she obediently brought a spoon of the stew to her lips. It didn’t taste disgusting, but she certainly would never choose to eat it. Gradually, the tension in the room lessened as the men returned to their food, drinks, conversations, and even card games. As they began to ignore her, she noticed her appetite returning. She surprised herself by nearly finishing the entire plate of gruel. 

“This wasn’t so bad,” she admitted. 

As soon as she spoke, the hotel door swung open, a breeze rushing through the dining room. Everybody ignored the new arrival except Eliza. She watched his slow entry into the lobby, watched him draw his gun, watched him approach the dining room. She couldn’t speak. Her chest ached with the breath she couldn’t exhale. She didn’t give any warning or indication of what she saw. Even when he targeted Ford. 

“Put the gun down,” Ford said after calmly swallowing the last bite of food on his plate. 

The man hesitated, surprised, but he didn’t comply. 

“Put it down,” Ford warned without turning his head. 

Eliza imagined the man blowing a hole through Ford’s head. She could see the blood…the brains…on the table, on her dress. What would stop the stranger from killing Ford? Nothing that she could see. 

“Somebody said they saw you around here. But I thought that couldn’t be right,” the stranger said, “I thought you would be in Mexico by now. Unless you already killed him.” 

Ford moved quickly, pulling his gun with his left hand and turning to the right, firing almost as soon as he had it drawn. The loud report made Eliza’s ears ring. She clutched her head, covering her ears in a futile attempt to protect them from more blasts. It took a few seconds for her frantic eyes to see the blood dripping from the stranger’s right wrist. Ford stood, his gun still drawn, and now faced down the man. 

“What are you doing this close to Mexico, Ben? You looking for your brother?” Ford’s tone was light, conversational. 

“I heard he was down this way,” Ben said, his words surprisingly even despite the blood now soaking his hand. 

“He’s about fifty miles southwest of here, last time I saw him. He’s probably not too pretty to look at now.” Ford waved his hand in front of his face. “He lost his head.” 

Ben gritted his teeth. 

“You better look after that hand,” Ford said. “You might lose it.” 

“Do you think this is over?” Ben wheezed, his burly face twisted in pain. “Did you think it would be as easy as killing my brother?” 

“My quarrel was never with you,” Ford said. 

“You fucked with me when you fucked with my brother.” His fingers were turning lax, the gun’s nose now pointing safely at the floor. 

“Don’t you have a whole passel of women waiting for you back home?” Ford asked. His gun was not pointing at the floor. “Your mother’s still alive, isn’t she?” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m just saying you should go back to them. Take care of them.” 

“I will. After I take care of you.” The loss of blood made a mockery of his tough words as he lost his balance, falling on the man behind him. 

“Somebody get him out of here,” Ford said, pointing to Ben with his gun. “Is there a doctor around these parts?” 

“I’ll take him Doc Roe,” a young man with bright eyes announced. “Red, Shifty, help me out here, will ya?” 

Ford watched as they dragged the now unconscious man out of the hotel, not sitting until they were safely out the door.

“Are you OK?” He asked. 

Eliza shook her head, pointing to her ears. They were still ringing. She could still hear, but everything was muffled, as though a wad of cotton had been stuffed in her head.

Ford nodded, pointing to the stairs. Would she like to go upstairs to bed? Eliza’s first choice would have been to gather up the horse and get out of town as fast as they could, but she merely stood and offered her hand. She didn’t speak until they reached their room. Once they were out of the din of the dining room, she found she could hear things easier. 

“What was that all about? I mean, was it just a coincidence?” Eliza asked, once Ford shut and locked the door. 

“No coincidence,” Ford said. “Ben’s been tracking me. He figured I was still a good day behind Corbett.” 

“You knew he was following you?” 

“Of course.” 

Eliza sat on the edge of the bed. “So what does this mean? Another shootout?” 

“Not if he’s smart.” Ford smiled wryly. “Though, Corbett was the brain of the family.” 

“When are we leaving?” Eliza asked, unbuttoning her dress. “I hate it here.” 

“Well…the coach won’t be arriving for another week, it seems,” Ford said, but she could tell he was holding some bit of information back from her. 

“We don’t have to wait for the coach. I can survive on the horse until we reach the next town,” Eliza told him, her body tense. 

“I think we’ll stay for a few days.” His words were mild, but final. 

Eliza narrowed her eyes, looking for any clues on Ford’s face, realizing that she really didn’t know the man standing before her at all. She couldn’t guess why he’d want to stay in this godforsaken place, especially given the danger. Did he think she enjoyed being attacked in her own room? Didn’t he want to see her out of harm’s way? 

Or was she just along for the ride? Welcome to warm his bed, but otherwise unimportant and incidental? Maybe she shouldn’t have trusted Ford. It seemed the only person she could trust these days was herself. 

Eliza prepared for bed without speaking, or noting that she didn’t get the bath he had promised. She washed her hands and face, plaited her greasy hair, and pointedly only removed her dress, leaving her shift on. Once settled in bed, hugging the edge of the mattress, she watched as he went through the same nightly ritual, standing in front of the cooling basin of water shirtless, water dribbling down his chest. 

Ford left the lamp burning low beside the bed, his gun at the ready beside it. She lay stiff and motionless as he crawled under the covers, expecting him to reach for her. Only six inches separated them in the narrow bed. It would just take one of them to roll over, to reach out, to close the tiny gap. Eliza wasn’t interested in being the one to make the first move. 

She watched the long shadows on the ceiling until Ford’s breathing deepened. Once she thought he was asleep, she tried to turn to her side, sleeping with her back to him. Despite her caution, she startled him awake. He reached for her with one hand, sitting straight up, grabbing the gun with his other hand. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I was just trying to get comfortable. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“I’m not used to sharing a bed with another body.” 

“Maybe you’ll sleep better in your own bed,” Eliza said without thinking. 

“I’m comfortable here,” he said. 

Eliza froze, recognizing her error. She didn’t want to fight with Ford, and she certainly didn’t want to give him any reason to be angry with her. How hard would it be for him to just kick her out of the room? 

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t…” 

“Would you like your own bed?” He asked. 

“No,” she said softly. The fact was, she preferred to have him there, armed, and solid beside her. 

“Good.” He relaxed against his pillow again, putting the gun back on the table. She remained motionless as he drifted off, careful not to disturb him again. She held her breath, releasing it in quiet, low breaths before taking another gulp. He fell asleep again almost immediately, leaving her wide-awake. 

Eliza wanted to sleep, but even in a soft, warm bed, she couldn’t get over her anxiety. She was in limbo, without a home, family, or friends, at the mercy of a strange man she didn’t understand. She could only hope that she was safer with him than any of the other strange, dangerous men that surrounded them. 

_ How am I going to survive this? _

It occurred to her that she didn’t have to go with Ford to California, or even to Santa Fe. She could take the train in Silver Springs to San Antonio, and from there to New Orleans. She could return to England. Her family would pay for her passage without asking questions. The worse she’d have to deal with is their knowing smiles, their unspoken disapproval. She could live with her brother and his wife until she found her feet again. 

Eliza relaxed as her new plan began to take shape, and she saw that it was not only possible, but her best option. This nightmare would end soon. In just a few months, it would seem so distant as to be impossible. As the tension drained from her, her leg, then her arm brushed against Ford’s sleeping body. As soon as the heat from his body seeped into her flesh, her thoughts turned to other areas. 

Would Ford reach for his gun if she woke him with a kiss? Did she even want to do such a thing? Her body warmed at the very thought. She slid a finger between her thighs, testing her delicate skin. She was already wet, and her nub jumped at the briefest of touches. 

Nothing stood between them now…

Except the good chance that he would blow her head off if she touched him.

#

Warm lips met Eliza’s softly, pulling her from a deep sleep. She opened her mouth, responding to the sleepy kiss without hesitation. As the fog cleared from her brain, she noticed the warmth of the sun against her face—it was definitely morning, but she had no idea how early or late. He deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue between her lips. The kiss was as languid as an early morning yawn. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding her body against his. 

Eliza opened her eyes when he finally pulled away. He had a shadow of stubble on his cheeks, a sleepy look in his eyes, and a small smile on his lips. The sight of him in the mellow golden light made her heart ache in a vague, indefinable way. She welcomed his lips again, taking the opportunity to forget about the twinge in her chest in favor of other areas of her body. 

Ford pulled on her shift, exposing her bare legs. His rough hand moved down her tight thighs, teasing her with caresses that barely missed her damp curls. She thrust her hips forward thoughtlessly as she ran her hands down his back, over his tight bunches of muscles, and taut skin. He slid his finger against her wet skin, barely brushing her throbbing flesh. Eliza opened her legs, wordlessly inviting him to continue. 

Ford finally rested his thumb against her clit, holding it there as she squirmed, trying to escape the maddening pressure. Without shifting his thumb, he slid two fingers into her, curling the tip of his thumb at the same time. The simultaneous stimulation was enough to make her shout as she writhed beneath the blanket. She couldn’t recall being so responsive to anybody. Her entire body trembled, straining for more. She felt greedy, insatiable. 

Ford trailed his lips down her neck, his breathing harsh in her ear. The faintest hint of his sharp teeth made her shiver. She shuddered as he scraped his teeth across the hollow of her throat, surprised by the sudden tightening in her chest. His hand never slowed, never deviated from the rhythm he set. She wanted more. She felt empty, almost hollow. His fingers hit the bundle of nerves inside of her, but they didn’t stretch her, didn’t overwhelm her. 

“Ford,” she breathed. “Ford, I want…” 

He didn’t let her finish her request, biting her neck without further warning. His teeth sent a flash of pain through her body, but far from dampening her enthusiasm, it seemed to be just the spark she needed. Her orgasm ripped through her body before he even removed his mouth from her neck, leaving her shivering and breathless in his arms. 

Wordlessly, she grabbed his hard flesh, wrapping her fingers around his shaft. He didn’t need further encouragement to settle between her legs. He thrust into her with a soft grunt, their bodies meeting each other perfectly, their breath coming in tandem. 

Eliza knew what to expect from him now, but the way he felt inside of her, the way his body felt over hers, the way he sounded, the way he smelled, still shocked her. She didn’t think she could get enough of him, her body responding to his on the most basic level. All that mattered was that she was built for him, built to cradle his body between her legs, and he was built for her. Their instincts and their flesh carried them through the rest of the act, allowing no room for second thoughts or for doubt. Eliza didn’t want to do anything but feel him. 

Ford moved slowly at first, moving out of her completely before taking his time to enter her again. He allowed the anticipation to grow between each stroke, building the tension by not touching her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, to keep from begging him. Did he want to reduce her to a gibbering mess, capable of only pleading for release from the exquisite tension he built with each endless second? Each time he slid into her, it felt like the first time, the strength of her own pleasure shocking her. Each time he pulled away from her, it felt like he was taking something precious, something that belonged to her. 

But even Ford couldn’t keep up with his own game. The tempo of his rhythm began to shift, gradually gaining speed until the entire bed shook and rattled with the force of their coupling. He pushed her in the mattress, his face red, his breath coming in staggered gasps. She couldn’t stay silent anymore, her moans matching his loud grunts. 

Eliza’s second climax struck her without warning, rendering her speechless, knocking the breath from her body. Every nerve ending, every inch of her body, screamed for relief, unable to withstand the continued assault, but she couldn’t find a voice for the pleasure-pain radiating through her body. Ford might have been able to see it in her face, see the sensitivity reflected in her eyes, but he didn’t slow. 

Eliza pushed at his chest, her hands weak and ineffectual, fluttering between them like small birds. He caught her wrists together with one hand without slowing, holding them above her head, pinning her. She opened her mouth, intent on telling him to stop…telling him she couldn’t take anymore because everything was blurring together and she couldn’t tell where her body began or ended. Ford took advantage of her open lips, dipping his head to claim her mouth, as he claimed the rest of her. 

Ford thrust into her once more, pausing for a split second that snapped into eternity, until all her body hummed, the light in the room seemed to crystallize into one tiny point above Ford’s head, then shatter, falling over her body in a rain of golden shards. Ford jerked, his body tensing with his final movement before he collapsed to the side, out of breath and flushed. 

Once Ford caught his breath, he pushed himself from the bed, silently dressing. Eliza watched without paying attention, her brain and body a muddle of exhaustion and euphoria. She didn’t know how he could jump out of bed so quickly—she thought it might take her days to recover. 

“Stay here,” he instructed, once he was dressed. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“You’re leaving me here again?” Eliza asked, his words like cold water on her face. 

“You’ll be fine.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised her. “And I’ll bring up some breakfast too.” 

“I’ll come with you,” she said, pushing the blanket aside. She didn’t quite trust her legs, but she trusted the men in the hotel even less. 

“No. Not right now. Just stay put.” Ford crossed the room, pushing her shoulder until she laid down again. “I’ll take you out a little later.” 

“Where? To the livery so we can leave?” 

“No.” 

Eliza pulled the blanket over her head, childishly refusing to look at him as he left the room. If the events of the morning had weakened her resolve to leave Ford as soon as possible, his subsequent abandonment renewed her determination. How many times did she have to be accosted before he did something about it? And would she ever get her bath? Her skin and scalp itched, and she could no longer abide her own smell. 

Eliza didn’t mark the time as she waited for him, but she was still in bed sulking when he returned. She refused to lower the blanket to look at him until he yanked it off the bed, tossing it in the corner without a second thought. 

“What did you do that for?” Eliza said, feeling oddly self-conscious beneath his hard eyes. 

“Do you want your bath?” 

“Yes!” 

“Then come on.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Across the hall. They have the largest tub in the joint filled to the brim with hot water and soap.” 

Eliza caught her breath. “Really?” 

“Yes. I think they might have some clean clothes for you in there as well,” he said, taking her by the elbow. 

“How?” 

“I guess the mayor’s wife heard of the pretty young lady currently lodging in town,” Ford said. “She kindly sent an invitation for lunch today, along with a new dress.” 

“You mean there’s another women here who isn’t a…prostitute?” Eliza asked, shocked by the news, as well as by the unexpected generosity. 

“Apparently.” He opened the door to the next room—a much smaller room dominated by a large, galvanized tub. 

“Will you…” Eliza averted her eyes. “Will you be joining me?” 

Ford grinned, gently pushing her into the room. “Not this time. Go on now, make yourself pretty. I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.” 

 

#

A new woman emerged from the bedroom to meet Ford in the hallway. Eliza couldn’t remember the last time she felt so…magnificent. Her hair hung in a glossy curtain around her shoulders, her face and hands were scrubbed white, her new dress cracked and sparked as she moved, and the sweet aroma of perfumed soaps drifted around her as she walked. She bestowed a charming, bright smile on Ford, offering her hand. 

“What do you think?” She asked as he kissed her knuckles. 

“You look perfect.” 

Eliza blushed, her cheeks and neck warming. “I still need to put my hair up.” 

Ford gently pulled his fingers through the strands behind her ears. “I like it down.” 

“It won’t take but a minute…but I left my hair pins in our room…” 

Ford followed her into the bedroom, watching with crossed arms as she began to plait her hair. Eliza decided now would be a good time to bring up her decision. She didn’t think she’d break his heart with the announcement, but she didn’t know if he’d be thrilled to hear it either. 

“Do the trains only go to Santa Fe from Silver City?” She asked. 

“No.” 

“Oh?” 

“One goes west to California, the other goes to San Antonio.”

“I see.” 

“Why?” 

Eliza took a deep breath. “I was thinking I would go east, to San Antonio, instead of on to Santa Fe.” 

Ford didn’t respond, so she rushed to explain. “From there I can go to New Orleans and get passage back to England. My family will pay, I’m sure they will.” She looked up at him hesitantly. “Is that OK?” 

“You don’t need my permission, Eliza. You can travel anywhere you please.” His words were neutral, not giving her a clue either way. 

“Well, I know that. But I thought you might…” 

“Might what?” 

Eliza didn’t know how to answer. Of course, she didn’t think he would beg her not to go. She was just another person passing in and out of his life. What if he did beg her? The accompanying image of a man as hard as Ford begging for anything struck her as so absurd she nearly laughed out loud. 

“I thought you might…care…” Eliza answered. 

“You’re a grown woman, Eliza. Not tied to me, or anybody anymore. Do what makes you happy.” 

_ Would it make you happy if I stayed? _ Eliza looked away from him so he couldn’t see the question in her eyes. 

“They’re expecting us,” he said, his words pulling her from her thoughts. 

“Right, right, of course.” She quickly finished braiding her hair, winding the braid into a tight coil at the nape of her neck. She was aware of Ford’s eyes on her, marking each movement, but she did her best to ignore him. 

Eliza followed him to the lobby of the hotel and out the door without looking away from the center of his back. A hot gust of wind hit her as they stepped out of the door, blowing grit into her eyes and down her throat. She snapped her head away, coughing to clear her throat, her body shaking. She struggled to catch her breath, but once she started hacking, she couldn’t stop. Her eyes ran profusely, tears and even snot streaming down her face. 

“Here,” Ford said, pushing a handkerchief into her hand. “Use this.” 

Eliza took it thankfully, wiping her face, turning her back to the wind. Ford kept a comforting hand on her shoulder, holding her steady as she struggled to catch her breath. She wiped the tears and grit from her eyes until she could see again. 

“Will you be all right?” Ford asked. 

“Yes.” She coughed once more. “I should be. I just got dust down my throat…” 

“Yeah, it happens. Here…” He took the rag from her hand, gently wiping her cheeks until they were clean again. “As good as new. Don’t worry. We don’t have far to walk.” 

Dead Man’s Corner seemed like nothing more than a ghost town as Ford led her down the main street. All the men were in the mines or sleeping off hangovers. Nobody lingered on the streets, except for a few mutts and the occasional chicken. The air was heavy with heat and silence. It felt like a wool blanket against her damp skin. 

Ford stopped short in front of a mansion at the end of the short street that looked out of place even among the newly built saloons and hotels. It was far too big, too gaudy for such a small town. It belonged in Savannah, somewhere deep in the sleepy south, surrounded by tall oak trees, not at the end of a dry, dirt road with nothing but tumble weeds and sage brush surrounding it. 

“It’s very…large…” Eliza murmured. 

“First building that went up here in the Corner,” a loud man said from behind her. Eliza spun around, surprised. A tall man with a long chin and red cheeks looked at from beneath bushy, white eyebrows. “Designed it myself!” 

“Mayor Reid,” Ford said, extending his hand. “This is Eliza Quinn.” 

Eliza curtsied out of habit. “Mayor Reid.” 

“Where did you find this English rose?” Reid asked in his booming voice. 

“Ford has kindly agreed to escort me to Silver City so I can take a train home,” Eliza said quickly, hoping that would end the line of the questions. 

“Well, I know Mrs. Reid is dying for a bit of company. She gets so lonely here, with nobody but miners to talk to.” He laughed as though it was a great joke, prompting Eliza to smile, though she found his attitude quite bewildering. “Follow me!” 

Ford placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her up the walk behind Mayor Reid. The oddly intimate touch made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as a small shiver raced down her spine. Did he know what sort of an effect the simple contact would have on her? She felt flush, the sun beating down on top of her defenseless head. 

“Elsie,” Reid bellowed as they approached the door. 

A rather rotund woman with hair as white as her husband’s eyebrows opened the door, clapping her hands with glee. “Visitors!” 

“Yes, and look at this poor girl. The sun is apt to kill her!” Reid said, pushing Eliza up the steps. 

Elsie took Eliza’s arm, dragging her into the house. “Oh, we have some nice cold buttermilk. I wish I could offer some lemonade, but we haven’t had fresh lemons here in…” She paused, tilting her head. “Well, bless me, I don’t think we’ve ever had fresh lemons here.” 

“Water will be fine,” Eliza said, looking over her shoulder for Ford. “Where are the men going?” 

“Oh,” Elsie waved her hands dismissively, “probably into the den for one of those stinky old cigars. They must have business to see to. Now where are you from dear?” 

“England.” 

“Well, yes, of course, I mean what are you doing here?” Elsie said, handing Eliza a mug of water. 

“We’re going to the train in Silver City.” 

“I see,” she fluttered around the kitchen, putting the final touches on lunch. “How long have you been married.” 

“Oh, we’re not…” Eliza’s words faltered as Elsie turned to look over her shoulder, eye brown eyes wide with surprise. 

“Not married? Nice young women don’t travel with strange men they’re not married to…or at least, not related to.” 

“I…well, you see, my husband died rather suddenly, leaving me stranded about fifty miles from here. Ford happened to stop at my home for water one day while traveling and offered to escort me to Silver City, since I could hardly make the journey by myself,” Eliza explained, nonplussed by Elsie’s moral outrage. Who was this woman to judge her? 

Even if her judgment was rather astute? 

“Oh, well, that’s entirely different, isn’t it, dear? It’s not safe for a woman to travel by herself out here in this godless land. Did you know there’s not even a church in Dead Man’s Corner? I try to hold weekly meetings here in my own home, but nobody bothers with their soul except Clara…have you met Clara? She’s a sweet girl.” 

Eliza nodded, listening to Elsie’s happy ramblings without trying to get a word in edgewise. In a way, her gregarious words were a welcome respite from Ford’s general taciturn nature. At least Eliza didn’t feel pressured to hold up the conversation. 

“We’ll be having a Bible study course after regular services this Sunday. Mr. Reid is such a great speaker. I could listen to him talk about God and the Angels for hours. Perhaps you’d like to join us? We really will have a lovely time.” 

Eliza nearly choked on her gritty water. “Oh, it sounds lovely, Mrs. Reid, truly. But I don’t think we’ll be in town on Sunday…” 

“Why of course you will be, dear.” 

“No,” she said slowly, “we have to get to Silver City for the train…” 

“Oh, Mr. Reid asked your…Mr. Ford…to help him with some business in town yesterday. Mr. Ford is such a nice man, of course he agreed.” 

“What business?” Eliza asked, fresh anger bubbling in her stomach. 

“Oh, dear, I’m sure I don’t know. Mr. Reid doesn’t tell me anything. Do you like the dress? I bought it so many years ago that I feared a young lady like yourself would consider it horribly out of fashion, but I only wore it once, so I thought it might be acceptable.” 

“It’s very nice,” Eliza said, surprised that Mrs. Reid had ever been Eliza’s size. “Thank you. But what were you saying about…” 

“Of course, you’re more than welcome to stay here with us instead of that nasty hotel. It’s not the sort of place for respectable ladies, you know. Full of very dirty men, isn’t it? Oh, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I knew such a nice lady like yourself was stuck in that…horrible place. Why, I told Mr. Reid that we had plenty of room here and it would be only right to offer you a room.” 

Eliza blinked. “I…um…thank you for your kindness. Ford didn’t mention that we’d be staying here.” 

“It must have slipped his mind, dear, you know how men can be.” 

“Yes.” 

“We shall have such a good time, though.” She looked like a young girl, her eyes bright with excitement. Eliza expected her to clap her hands again at any moment, too excited to restrain herself. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had any good company. You know, sometimes I feel like I’m going just a little bit crazy out here.” 

Elsie paused, her eyes distant. Eliza couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Elsie Reid had gone more than just a little bit crazy since arriving in Dead Man’s Corner. She had a short of manic energy that could easily be diverted into madness. 

“Why don’t we bring the men their lunch? I’m sure they’re starving.” 

Eliza took the offered tray from Elsie, not commenting on her own growling stomach. Lunch consisted of huge portions biscuits, fried chicken, and buttermilk. “I wish I had vegetables, you know dear, something green. But it is so hard to keep a proper garden here! You would not believe the trials I have had. Just set that tray over there on that table dear, I’ll go get Mr. Reid. Make yourself comfortable, please.” 

Eliza set the food on the table, resisting the temptation to dig into the food before the other three joined her in the room. Ford sat beside her, his face neutral, but she sensed a certain tension in his body. He immediately began dishing up his food, not even waiting for his host to seat himself. Elsie dished up a plate as well, setting it in front of Eliza with a smile. 

“Dig in, dear, you look famished. Enjoy! There’s plenty more where that came from.” 

“My Elsie sure knows how to cook, doesn’t she?” Reid said with pride. “She’s a fine woman. If you want to be happy, Ford, you’ll do well to settle down with a good woman. Now look at this English Rose here, I’m sure she’s a great cook.” 

“She is,” Ford agreed, swallowing a mouthful of food. 

“The biscuits are delicious,” Eliza said to Elsie, trying to divert the conversation back to Elsie’s attributes and away from her own. 

“An old family recipe,” Elsie said, “I’ll be happy to give you the recipe dear. It’s hardly a secret of course. It would be a shame if my grandma’s wonderful recipe went to the grave with me.” 

Elsie sounded casual, but Reid’s eyes widened with alarm. He coughed, turning to Eliza. “It sounds like you’ll be our guest for the next few days. We have a lovely guestroom that I think you’ll enjoy.” 

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality.” She slid her eyes over to Ford. “And on such short notice too.” 

He didn’t look at her, or even acknowledge that he heard her. 

“Mayor Reid, how often does the coach come through town?” Eliza asked, spreading butter on her second biscuit. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Three times a week at least. More if there’s demand. You know how it is.” 

“I see. Is there a regular schedule?” 

“Of course, dear,” Elsie said, “we’re not completely uncivilized out here.” 

“That’s all very interesting,” Ford agreed, finally taking interest in the conversation. “Reid, how long have you been the mayor of Dead Man’s Corner?” 

“Oh, since it was just a handful of tents in the mud. Of course, I didn’t come out here to be a politician! I have a claim, same as everybody else, but when an injury…” 

“The whole ceiling just collapsed on him,” Elsie interrupted. 

“Yes, the entire ceiling. Anyway, I was forced to stay in my tent and I saw that this little shithole…oh, pardon my language ladies. I often forget myself. Anyway, I could see that the Corner could be much more than just a few tents. So I got myself elected mayor and set to work!” Reid’s eyes sparkled at the memory, but he quickly sobered. “And now we could lose it all.” 

“It’ll be all right, dear,” Elsie said, her mouth full of chicken. 

Reid looked meaningfully at Ford. “Of course it will be.” 

“Lose it all?” Eliza asked, “I don’t understand.” 

Ford shook his head, but Reid either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the signal. “A man called Pierce is buying all the claims.” 

“So?” Eliza asked, confused.

“He’s using force to buy them.  His goons pay a visit to whoever he’s looking to buy from. Even the most reticent of men are willing to sell their claims, for far less than they’re worth I should add, when his men are finished. He’s slowly but surely accumulating power. Before long, he’ll own everything. The claims, the town…everything. But Mr. Ford here has agreed to help.” 

“Are you all right, dear?” Elsie asked as Eliza pushed her plate away. 

“Fine…fine…I think the heat is getting to me,” she said. 

“Oh, isn’t it horrific here? The house is never cool enough. Would you like to rest, dear? I can show you to your room. It’s always shady this time of day.” Elsie stood up, her food forgotten. 

“No, no,” Eliza said. “I don’t want to be any trouble.” 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all! Perhaps Mr. Ford wouldn’t mind returning to the hotel to get your things?” 

Ford stood up. “I’ll be happy to go now.” 

“Please!” Eliza said, holding up her hands. “Please, everybody, finish your meals. This isn’t necessary. Sit down.” 

Ford lowered himself to his seat, Elsie looked confused. “Are you sure, dear?” 

“Yes. But I would like a bit of air…” 

“Oh, I can show you to the verandah…” 

“Thank you, I’ll find it myself.” Eliza stood up, backing away from the table. “Please, enjoy your meal.” 

By the time she reached the back porch, her hands were shaking and her face was flushed. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around all the aspects of the situation that made her angry. Ford had lied about the coach without blinking. He was keeping her a virtual prisoner in an ugly, horrible little mining camp without an explanation. He never asked her what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go. And on top of all that, he could get himself killed. 

_ You’re not his wife _ , she reminded herself,  _ he doesn’t have to tell you everything _ . 

But she didn’t need to know every thing about his life, or even make him justify every decision. He wanted to save Dead Man’s Camp from some big, bad man? None of her business. But couldn’t he come back and save the strangers, and their precious silver, after he had taken care of her safety? Didn’t his obligation to her matter at all? 

Eliza crossed her arms, looking across the rocky hills that stretched behind the house. The same hills that were littered with silver, bursting with riches. How many people had sacrificed their lives for a little piece of land that held the promise of a better future? 

“I thought you might have ran away,” Ford said, stepping out of the house.

“Would you care if I did?” Eliza asked bitterly. 

“Eliza…” 

“You lied to me.” 

“I planned to tell you everything.” 

“No you didn’t. You weren’t going to tell me that you were taking on some…some…guy…” 

“Well, I didn’t plan to give you the details, but yes, I would have told you.” 

“I’m not staying here,” Eliza told him. 

“You’ll be safer here than at the hotel.” 

“No, I mean I’m not staying  _ here _ . In Dead Man’s Corner. I’m taking the next stagecoach to Silver City.” 

“You can’t do that, Eliza,” Ford said, taking her elbow. 

She pulled away from him, shaking her arm free. “I thought you said that I could travel where I please?” 

“You can…but not here. It’s far too dangerous.” 

“Do you care, Ford? I don’t think you care about me at all. If you did you wouldn’t have agreed to do this ridiculous job, you wouldn’t have agreed to keep me in this…” Eliza sputtered for the proper word, but was unable to find anything polite to say. “I’m in danger  _ here _ .” 

“You’ll be safe in this house, Eliza. I wouldn’t have…” 

“Why did you agree to do it, Ford? Why not just ride on through to Santa Fe? Was it just for the money? Surely Corbett’s bounty…” 

“I’m a hired gun, Eliza. This is what I do.” 

“Well, I’m glad I found out now then,” Eliza said, turning away from him. “I’m nothing more than a burden to you. It’s best if we part company now, I think.” 

Ford gripped her shoulder, forcing her to spin around and face him again. “You are not just a burden to me, Eliza.” 

“Right. Of course. I know what else I am to you. I’m sure Clara would be happy to take my place when I’m gone,” Eliza spat. 

“Do you think if you were just a…a burden to me…that I would have come back for you? I could have easily left you to fend for yourself,” Ford pointed out. 

“It’s nice to know that you’re such a noble man.” 

“I never claimed to be noble, Eliza.” 

“No, of course not.” Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I thought…what I was thinking. California. Can you imagine?” 

“Yes. I can.” 

“You’ll never make it to California, Ford. There are too many towns like this one standing between you and your ranch. And I don’t think I can…” Eliza tried to smile, “But of course, I planned to go to England anyway, right?” 

“Right.” 

“So I guess that’s it.” 

“Eliza, don’t go to Silver City by yourself. There are bandits and robbers all along that road. Wait for me.” 

“But what if something happens to you. What if Pierce’s men shoot you in the back? What if they work you over? Should I just stay here?” Eliza demanded. 

“None of that is going to happen. I know what I’m doing.” 

Eliza looked down at the finger still gripping her shoulder. Her skin burned where he touched her. What was she going to do when he wasn’t around to touch her anymore? Eliza didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling. She wanted to believe he knew what he was doing, because the thought of him injured or dead was too much for her to bear. She wanted to wait for him, because she didn’t want to leave him. She knew she needed to go home, but she couldn’t stop thinking about California.

“I…” 

Ford cut off her words with a gentle kiss. His warm mouth brushed against hers, as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. The restraint he showed surprised her, but what shocked her was the need she sensed just below the surface. She knew he wanted to take her by the shoulders, push her against the wall, and devour her mouth. Instead, he teased her lips, pulling a response from her that she didn’t want to give. She didn’t want to kiss him back, she didn’t want to curl her fingers into his strong arms, or press her body against his solid chest. But she couldn’t withstand his slow, measured assault on her senses. 

Eliza forgot where they were. She forgot about Mayor Reid and his nosy wife, about the dirty town, about her anger, as he gradually deepened the kiss. He still held himself back, still kept the passion just simmering beneath the surface, unwilling or unable to unleash himself. 

“Just wait for me,” he said against her mouth. 

“Ok,” she breathed. 

“Good.” 

“Are you staying here as well?” Eliza asked as Ford released her, putting several inches between them. 

“No, I’m still at the hotel. It’s better that way.” 

“So will I see you at all?” Eliza couldn’t imagine being so close to him, yet unable to see him, even unable to touch him. 

“Count on it.” 

“I’m worried about you,” Eliza admitted softly. 

“I know. But don’t.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’ve got to go now. But I’ll see you tonight.” 

“When?” 

Ford smiled slightly, then jumped off the porch, disappearing around the corner of the house. 

“Did Mr. Ford leave?” Elsie asked from the other side of the door. 

“Yes. Just now.” 

“Well, why don’t you come inside and finish your chicken, dear? You’re looking a little flushed from the sun."

“Yes…that sounds good. Thank you,” Eliza said, feeling numb.  

Elsie smiled, ushering her inside. 


	6. Chapter 6

Four shots were fired shortly after midnight, shaking Eliza from a light, troubled sleep. Her heart hammered in her ears, deafening. She clutched the blanket to her chest, holding her breath, straining her ears. Nobody in the house stirred. Eliza wondered if she had dreamed the shots…but no, Eliza knew what a real gun sounded like. Those four explosions hadn’t been imagined. 

Eliza crawled out of bed, trailing the blanket behind her. The window looked out over the main street, but nothing stirred in the shadows. The whole town seemed to be asleep, even the hotels and saloons. The full moon drifted overhead, casting the quiet town in an eerie, silver light. The buildings looked fake, almost other-worldly, like paper cutouts, or a child’s toys. She could almost imagine a great hand descending from the sky to knock over the hotel, or re-locate the bank. 

The peaceful street convinced her that the shots were meaningless. Perhaps just a drunk miner firing at the moon, or even an unintentional discharge…

Eliza turned back to the bed, but two more gunshots in rapid succession stopped her mid-stride. Wide-awake now, she could tell that they weren’t coming from the town itself. She glanced out the window to see lights in the upper-windows of both hotels. She hadn’t been the only one pulled from sleep. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought they were coming from nearby—from just behind the house, in fact. 

Without a second thought, Eliza grabbed the robe Elsie had thoughtfully provided, wrapping it around her shoulders and hurrying out of the bedroom. She paused in the hallway, giving her eyes the chance to adjust to the dim light, listening for any sounds from the master bedroom. The house was still and silent, nothing stirring but her. 

As crept down the stairs as quietly as possible, watching her step so she wouldn’t trip and go flying through the air. Once she reached the front hall, she quickly moved to the door, verifying that it was locked. The knob wouldn’t turn in her hand. Relieved, she hurried into the kitchen to check the back door. 

“What are you doing, dear?” 

Eliza screamed, turning around to face Elsie, who stood in a long, white nightgown, holding a lamp in one hand, a gun in the other. 

“I…I heard shots…” Eliza said, unable to look away from the gun. 

“Yes?” 

“I was just checking the doors…” 

“We’re locked up safe here, dear. Nothing for you to worry about. Why don’t you return to bed? It’s very late,” Elsie smiled, her teeth looking sharp and white in the lamp’s glow. 

“What…what are you doing with the gun?” Eliza asked, stepping back. 

“Oh this? I keep it on hand…in case of robbers.” She tittered shrilly. “Step away from the door, dear.” 

“What’s going on Elsie? Who is out there shooting? Is it Mr. Reid?” Eliza did step away from the door, but she kept as much space between her and the other woman as possible. 

“Shooting? Why, nobody dear. I didn’t hear anything.” 

“You didn’t hear anything? There were six shots fired. Right outside the house,” Eliza said, her voice rising. 

“Six shots? No, no, you must be mistaken.” She waved the gun around. “I would have heard it.” 

“I’m not mistaken, Elsie, they were right outside…” 

Another shot, this time from right outside the door, blasted in the night, followed closely by a flash from Elsie’s gun. Eliza shrieked, throwing herself to the ground. Glass shattered above her head, the shards raining down around her. She flattened herself against the ground, waiting for a bullet to fly over her head. 

“Oh! Oh! Eliza, dear, are you hurt? Were you hit? Oh, I was just so startled my finger must have slipped.” Elsie hurried across the kitchen to stand over Eliza. 

Eliza looked up, the other woman impossibly tall above her. “Get down,” Eliza said, grabbing Elsie’s ankle. “Do you want to get shot?” 

“What? Nobody’s going to shoot me.” 

“They are right outside! Now get down!” She yanked on Elsie’s foot, pulling her to the ground. She landed on her backside with a grunt, the gun pointed up to the ceiling. “Give me the gun.” 

“I can’t do that, dear.” 

“Look, I’ve shot a gun before,” Eliza said, “I’m not great, but I can hit a target. If they come into the house…” 

“Nobody’s coming in the house.” Elsie pushed herself to her feet rather ungracefully, her stumpy legs swaying until she straightened. “Now, why don’t you stand up?” 

“Stand up? Are you crazy? It’s best to remain down…” 

Elsie leveled the gun at Eliza’s head. “Stand up.” 

Eliza’s stomach felt like led, her head suddenly aching. Without further argument, she pushed herself to her feet, trying to avoid the glass beneath her hands and knees, but a few shards were driven into her skin anyway. She ignored the flashes of pain, as well as the hot, slow trickle of blood down her legs. 

“What’s going on, Elsie?” 

“You’re to stay out of everybody’s business, dear. You’re a troublemaker. A bad girl.” 

Eliza shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I saw you outside on the verandah today with Mr. Ford.” She shook her head, disappointed. “He’s not your husband.” 

“What? You’re aiming a gun at my head because Ford kissed me?” 

“Get upstairs,” Elsie said, pointing to the hallway. “Go on, go on, move. Of course, it’s not just because of your inappropriate and loose behavior. I was told to keep you out of the way.” 

“Out of the way of what? By who? Please, Elsie, I thought we were friends…” 

“What? Oh yes, friends. Friends. Well, we are.” She waved the gun. “If I fire this again, we’ll probably both go deaf.” 

“Where’s your husband, Elsie?” Eliza asked as she backed up the stairs, unwilling to turn away from the other woman, even for a second. 

“Outside, somewhere. Go on into your room.” 

“Who’s outside, Elsie?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well, dear.” Elsie slammed the door shut, the unmistakable sound of a heavy lock turning followed seconds later. Eliza gripped the doorknob in both hands, but it rattled uselessly without turning. 

“Elsie! Elsie! Let me out of here! Elsie!” She pounded on the door until her fists and wrists ached, but nobody responded. “Please! What’s going on?” 

The muscles in her shoulders and neck tensed with fear, sweat breaking out on her face and neck. Her stomach turned, forcing hot, bitter bile up to her throat. She hurried over to the window, but the view hadn’t changed from the earlier serene, sleep scene. She struggled to open the window, but it appeared to be sealed shut. Pressing her ear against the cold glass, she thought she heard men’s voices somewhere below her. 

“What is this? What’s going on?” 

Nothing but silence answered her. 

She pulled her robe off, and lifted the hem of her nightgown around her waist. The blood was drying now, tiny red rivers lining her white legs. Longing for a lamp, or even a candle, she tried to pull the tiny shards from her flesh, but she only succeeded in driving them deeper. Wincing in pain, she let her nightgown fall. It would be better to try again in the morning when she could see. She didn’t want to risk making the injury worse. 

Eliza fell back on the bed, trying to will her heart to slow, to return to normal. She needed to think about this logically, to consider her situation from all sides. What had Elsie said? She needed to keep Eliza out of the way. Out of the way of what? She could imagine Ford wanting to keep her safe, but would he ask Elsie to keep her safe by locking her in the bedroom and gun point? 

No. That would be ridiculous. Ford may be maddening, selfish, and impossible to predict, but he wouldn’t turn her into a virtual prisoner. He had her word that she wouldn’t leave for Silver City without him, and Eliza hoped that would be enough to reassure him. 

Then that meant somebody else wanted to imprison her. 

Or that Elsie Reid was just crazy. 

Both were equally possible, she supposed. But where was the mayor? Was he responsible for the shots? Where was Ford? Had there been a fight? Would she ever be allowed out of the room? 

Panic began to well up inside her again, but she tried to force it down. They couldn’t keep her there indefinitely. Ford had told her that he would be there to see her that night. If he didn’t show, he would at least be there the next morning. 

Eliza pushed herself off the bed, suddenly consumed with the need to see Ford. She pulled a chair over to the window, positioning herself so she could see the entire street. He wouldn’t be able to come to the house without stepping into her line of vision…unless he went around to the back. Where Elsie was likely to blow his head off with her shot nerves and absent eyes. 

Eliza watched the dark street gradually lighten as the sun slowly crawled over the horizon, her eyes falling shut before the town began to stir. 

#

The familiar sound of Ford’s deep voice pulled her from sleep. She thought she was still dreaming at first, but his words drifted from the front door through the thin walls. She stood quickly, her back and neck tight, aching in protest as she moved. She tried the door immediately, convinced that Elsie had come to her senses and unlocked the door. 

The knob still didn’t move. 

“Where is she?” She heard Ford say. It sounded as though he was standing outside her door. 

“She already left this morning.” Mr. Reid’s voice.

“Left? Where did she go?”

Eliza started pounding on the door frantically, shouting Ford’s name. She knew he must hear her, must know that she hadn’t gone anywhere. To her surprise, the door opened almost instantly, but it wasn’t Ford standing in the hallway. Elsie pointed her gun at Eliza’s chest, touching her lip with her index finger. “Shhhh.” 

“What was that?” Ford asked. 

“Elsie.” 

“Where did Eliza go?” 

“She caught the mail coach out of town this morning, before breakfast.” 

Eliza opened her mouth to protest, but Elsie thrust the gun in her face, silencing her. Why were they doing this? What did they have to gain by lying to Ford? Especially since Ford was there to help them, wasn’t he? 

“Did she say anything before she left?” Ford asked. 

“No, just that she hoped to reach Silver City before it got dark. The mail coach travels pretty fast, so I thought she had a good chance.” 

“I see.” 

“I guess this is a bit of a shock. She struck me as a bit flighty yesterday.” 

“Yes.” 

The gun was so close to her face now, she could touch it with the tip of her tongue. 

“What about Pierce?” Reid asked. 

“I’ll be leaving as soon as I gather up my horse.” 

_No!_ _Ford! Don’t go…_

“Does that mean the problem is taken care of?” Reid asked, his voice hopeful. 

“It’s been nice working with you.” She couldn’t see Ford, but she could imagine him tipping his hat before sauntering away. 

Elsie pushed Eliza into the room and shut the door again. Eliza rushed over to the window, hoping for one final glimpse of Ford. She pounded against the window, hoping that Ford would look over his shoulder before he walked out of sight. 

Eliza’s heart slammed to a stop as Ford glanced over his shoulder. She waved frantically, to afraid to shout his name. He didn’t acknowledge her before looking away, continuing on the path to the livery. 

“Ford, Ford,” she whispered, “Please don’t leave me. Please.” 

He didn’t turn around again. 

“I’ll bring you some breakfast, dear,” Elsie said through the shut door. “Why don’t you get dressed?” 

Eliza swallowed the sob building in her throat, blinking the tears out of her eyes. She’d think of something to get out of this mess. In the meantime, she had to focus on keeping herself alive. 

“Yes…thank you…” Eliza called back. 

She didn’t move from the window, not bothering to change into her dress. Instead, she watched the street, hoping to see Ford again. Ford didn’t return, but a man she vaguely recognized approached the house. She narrowed her eyes, scanning her memory for any familiar details. The man’s face was hard to make out through the glass, but she knew his build, the hat…and the bandaged around his wrist. 

It was Corbett’s brother, Ben. 

“Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

“Are you decent, dear?” 

Ben stopped at the front door. 

“Not…not yet…” 

“Well hurry. Your breakfast will get cold. I don’t know about you, but I hate cold griddlecakes. They just get the oddest texture, you know. Now, Mr. Reid, he’ll eat whatever I put in front him…cold…hot…it doesn’t matter, but I always tell him that our guests deserve better than the slop he eats. Well he always laughs and tells me I’m crazy, but I know that young ladies like you want their griddle cakes hot, am I right dear?” 

Eliza yanked the gown over her head, quickly pulling the previous day’s dress over her shift. She worked the buttons with numb fingers, simultaneously trying to smooth her hair and make herself look decent. She didn’t want Elsie to know that she was out of sorts, frightened, or anything other than normal. 

“You just go ahead and dine in here, dear,” Elsie said when Eliza announced she was decent. “I’ll come up and collect the plate later.” 

“Oh, you won’t be dining with me?” Eliza asked with a forced smile. 

Elsie laughed, setting the tray on the bed. “Oh, my, of course not. I already had my breakfast this morning. You’re such a late sleeper! But I told Mr. Reid, I told him that young ladies need their rest, and we shouldn’t disturb you. You enjoy now. That’s real maple syrup, all the way from Vermont! I have family there, you know.” 

“Oh, really?” Eliza strained her ears for Ben’s voice. Over Elsie’s babblings, she could hear two men talking below her, but their words were hushed. 

“Yes, yes, my brother and his entire brood live in Vermont. He had over twenty kids. Can you imagine? The Bible said to be fruitful and multiply, but I just don’t know. He went through three wives like that, and they were all young, hearty girls, bless their hearts.” Elsie sighed, her eyes growing distant for a moment. Eliza patiently waited for Elsie to come back, which she did with a surprised smile. “So good to talk about the family again. Well, enjoy your griddlecakes before they get cold!” 

_ Click _ , the familiar sound of the lock. 

Eliza looked at the food without appetite, grimacing. The thought of eating made her nauseous. Especially eating Elsie’s food. How did she know it wasn’t poisoned? But she also had no idea where she would be at the end of the day, or what she would be doing. If she didn’t eat now, would she regret in twelve hours later when her empty stomach cried out for nourishment? 

No, she had to keep her strength up. Ford said you could adapt and survive, or you could die. He was right, and she had no intention of dying. 

With that in mind, Eliza dug into the meal, polishing off all three of the fat griddlecakes, downing the entire glass of rich milk, and scraping the syrup from the plate with her finger. Once finished, she investigated the bedroom, checking each nook and cranny for anything remotely useful. She found a handful of hatpins, a few hairpins, and a small length of wood that might have worked as a shoehorn. She secreted them all away, arranging her clothes to hide her new treasures. 

Elsie returned just minutes after Eliza’s search finished. Eliza heard several raised voices as the door swung open—it sounded as though at least three or four men had joined Ben and the mayor while she had been distracted with breakfast. Elsie behaved as though she didn’t hear anything, bustling in to pick up the tray, a whirlwind of words and calico, then bustling out again, pausing long enough to lock the door. 

Eliza had nothing to do but wait.  

“Ford,” she whispered, “Please don’t give up on me. I gave you my word…” It occurred to her that if the accusations she flung at him the day before—that she was nothing to him but a burden and a prostitute—were true, then she was in serious trouble.  She wished she could distance herself from the unfortunate words, wished she could call them back, tell him that she did think he was a noble man. 

_ Come now, you can do this. You can rescue yourself…can’t you? _

Eliza didn’t know. Confusion knotted her guts, desperation constricted her throat, and a dull throbbing started behind her eyes, the ache growing stronger by the minute. How many times had she wished she could leave that damned house forever? And how many times in the past week had she closed her eyes and prayed this was all a dream, prayed that she would wake up in her own sweet bed? 

A loud crash from directly below her startled her out of her thoughts. A second one followed, then unintelligible shouting, and finally silence. Eliza froze, waiting for any signals or further development, and didn’t miss the sound of small feet hurrying up the stairs outside her door. 

“Eliza?” Elsie’s high pitched voice had climbed an octave. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you ready to travel, dear?” 

“It doesn’t matter if she’s ready!” A man shouted. He must have been standing on the stairs, perhaps even on the landing. 

“Yes!” Eliza answered. 

“Oh, good dear.” Elsie opened the door, her white face a hectic shade of red. “Then I think it’s best if you come downstairs now.” 

“Where am I going?” Eliza asked. 

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t know. They don’t tell me anything around here.” She giggled, the hallmark sound of a madwoman. “But come here, dear. Yes, lean in closer. I have a secret for you.” 

Confused, and a little frightened, Eliza dipped her head until she was in kissing distance. “Yes?” 

“Remember the number one rule of good cooking, dear. My grandma told me…” 

Eliza restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She was about to be taken god knows where, possibly to her grave, and Elsie wanted to exchange cooking tips? 

“What did she tell you?” Eliza prompted. 

“My grandma told me the most important thing in the kitchen is a sharp knife.” Elise pressed something in her hand. “You keep that in mind.” 

Eliza looked down to find a small, bone-handled knife sheathed in a leather pouch. It was no bigger than her hand, but Eliza believed it could do damage. 

“Your grandma was a wise woman,” Eliza said, hiding it in the deep pockets of her dress. 

“Yes, she truly was a rare breed. Well! Off you go, dear! Enjoy your trip. I’m sure it’ll be a lovely journey,” Elsie said, pushing her out of the room. 

“Yes, I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” Eliza agreed. 

Ben was waiting for her at the front door, the bandage around his wrist still seeping a bit of blood. “Is she ready?” He growled. 

“Of course, dear.” 

“And Ford? He thinks she’s gone?” 

“Probably thinks she’s in Silver City by now,” Reid assured him. 

Ben nodded. “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here. Can you ride a horse?” 

“Yes,” Eliza answered calmly. 

“You’re not going to try anything funny, are you?” Ben growled, grabbing her by the arm. “I’d have to have to tie you to the horse.” 

“I won’t try anything…funny,” Eliza said. “You have my word.” 

“Good. Mayor Reid,” Ben nodded,  “Mrs. Reid, you all have a nice day.” 

“Where are we going?” Eliza asked as he dragged to the two horses hitched on the post outside the house. 

“Does it matter?” Ben asked. 

“I’d like to know.” 

“Mexico.” 

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Unlike Ford, Ben didn’t give Eliza’s comfort a second thought. He pushed them hard throughout the day, never stopping to rest, and rarely offering her water from the many canteens he had hanging from his body and saddle bags. Eliza didn’t complain verbally, but she thought of a host of unpleasant ways to get revenge. Imagining the brutal satisfaction of running him over with a horse going full speed managed to keep her going through the final hour of their journey, long after the sun had set, and coyotes seemed to be surrounding them. 

Eliza didn’t miss that they were on the same route she traveled with Ford the day before, and she didn’t miss the clues of their journey littering the path. It occurred to her that it would be easy to track two travelers, even if they had a day head start. Even two days. The thought filled her with renewed hope, though she had no way of knowing if Ford would actually be tracking her. 

Ben pulled her from the horse to the ground with rough hands, unmindful of the pain he caused her. 

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the ground. “Don’t move. Do you understand?” 

Eliza looked around at the night surrounding them with no intention of running off into the darkness. She nodded, shivering as the wind picked up around them. 

“I’m going to build a fire before I freeze,” he muttered, scanning the ground for fuel. 

She watched without speaking, pointedly not volunteering to help him. She didn’t have a way to track the time, but she estimated a good forty-five minutes had passed before he had a very small fire built. She sat as close to the weak flames as she could, warming her fingers and toes. 

The familiar fear crept over her, but she knew she couldn’t give into it. Instead, she tried to distract herself by studying Ben as he sat across the fire from her, eating jerking without offering her a single bite. 

Ben looked younger than Ford, probably a good decade younger. His long black hair matched his shaggy beard and fell over his beady, black eyes. He wore a battered brown hat low over his face, and a battered brown vest over his portly body. He didn’t look like he was in very good shape, but Eliza didn’t want to test him. What he lacked in strength, she thought, he’d make up in pure meanness. 

“What are you staring at?” He grunted. 

“I…nothing.” 

“If you want something to eat, you’ll have to wait until I’m done.” 

Eliza bit her tongue. She’d rather go hungry. She wondered how willing he’d be to answer her questions, but she didn’t know how to start the interrogation. What would he do to her if he thought she was being to pushy or too nosy? 

“Why are we going to Mexico?” She finally asked. 

“Because he won’t be able to find you there.” 

Eliza blinked, unnerved. “Who won’t be able to find me?” 

“Ford.” 

“He’s not looking for me,” Eliza said. 

“How do you know?” 

“He thinks I’m on the mail coach to Silver City. From there to New Orleans, then on to England,” Eliza explained. 

“You think he believes that?” 

“Yes.” 

Ben shrugged. “I think he knows where you are, and who you’re with.” 

“Why?” Eliza asked. 

“Because I want him to know.” 

Eliza swallowed. “Why? You don’t think he’ll come looking for you? Isn’t that an awful big risk?” 

“He took something important from me. I’m just returning the favor.” Ben examined his hunk of jerky over the fire. “That was your house, wasn’t it? The burnt one?” 

“How do you know about that?” 

“Robbie told me.” 

“Robbie?”

“He was riding with my brother when Ford killed him.” 

“Oh. Yes.” 

“Well, then, I’d think you’d be after a little revenge as well, instead of spreading your legs like a cheap whore,” Ben sneered. 

Eliza reeled back, as if he had slapped her across the face. “Excuse me?” 

“You lost your house because of him. There’s a fresh grave out there, so you must have lost one of your people. You can thank Ford for that.” 

Prudence temporarily forgotten, Eliza spoke. “Your brother opened fire, and your brother burned my house. I was just minding my own business when it happened.” 

“Who got there first?” Ben asked. 

“What?” 

“Who was there first? Ford or my brother?” 

Eliza hesitated. “Ford.” 

“He claimed to be tracking Corbett, didn’t he?” Ben asked. 

“Yes.” 

“You ever see a tracker get a day ahead of his prey? How does that work?” 

“Ford said…Ford said he’d be coming there because of the water…” 

Ben shook his head. “Well, you were fooled. Ford knew that Corbett and his posse would be there because he led them there.” 

“Posse? What are you saying?” 

“Ford wasn’t the tracker, doll. Ford was the one being hunted.” Ben tore at the jerky with his teeth. 

“And your brother…he was a bounty hunter?” 

“Not at all. He was an United States Marshall.” 

Eliza felt dizzy. “No…no, he was wanted for murder. He shot Ford’s brother…shot his wife…” 

“That part’s true, actually,” Ben said. “Corbett did shoot Ford’s brother. During a train robbery. Guess who was doing the robbing.” Ben smacked his lips around the jerky. 

“No, none of this makes sense…” 

“Tell me, did Ford pick up the bounty in Dead Man’s Corner? Of course he didn’t, because there wasn’t a bounty,” Ben told her. 

“He said he’d collect it in Santa Fe.” 

“That’s not how it works. He could have collected it at the Corner if he wanted. Why would a man delay collecting a bounty for hundreds of miles and days? Why risk it?” 

“And why am I supposed to believe you over Ford?” Eliza demanded, prompted by the vestiges of loyalty she still felt for her lover. 

“Does he wear one of these?” Ben pulled his jacket aside, revealing the unmistakable badge of a U.S. Marshall. “He’s a nobody, Eliza. Nothing but a criminal.” 

“If he’s so awful then why did he…why was he so kind to me?” Eliza demanded, her face burning. 

Ben shrugged. “That’s not for me to say.” 

“If you’re a lawman, why did you kidnap me? Why are you hauling me to Mexico? I didn’t do anything to you. I was involved in this. I was just trying to get home.” Eliza tried to keep her voice was even, but her shaking chest made that difficult. 

“Who said I was kidnapping you?”

“You took me against my will from a house where I was being held as a prisoner!” 

“Maybe I just mean to take you someplace where you’ll be safe,” Ben said. 

“Safe from Ford you mean.” 

He nodded. “Hungry?” 

“No.” 

“I know this is difficult to hear, but you’ve got to eat. We have a long day tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want to be a part of this,” Eliza said, turning away from him. “I don’t want to be a part of any of this. I didn’t ask for…” 

“It happened, though, whether you ask for it or not.” 

“And you adapt and survive, or you die,” Eliza muttered. 

“Exactly.” He tossed the hunk of meat over the fire into her lap. “Eat that. I’m going to check things out before we turn in.” 

Eliza gnawed at the jerky without enthusiasm, her entire body numb. How could the man who held her so gently, who kissed her, who made her feel safe in the middle of the desert be the criminal? How could the man who came back for her, who rescued her from a long, slow death be the bad guy? That didn’t make sense. How could it be true? 

Ben could be lying, but his words made sense. Was there anyway to check his story without just taking his word for it? 

Corbett’s men. A few of the bodies were still in her yard, untouched by the fire. They could have been dragged away by scavengers, but if they were truly members of a posse, wouldn’t they have been deputized? Which meant they’d be wearing stars too. 

But what would it mean to her if they were wearing stars? She still didn’t want to go to Mexico, and she didn’t trust Ben to keep her safe. She doubted that her well-being was high on his list of priorities. He wanted Ford. He was laying a trap with her as bait. If he truly wanted her safe from Ford, he would have brought to a place that was actually out of Ford’s reach. He wouldn’t backtrack to Corbett’s body, to the site of the fight, to the trail that Ford had just been traveling days before. No, this was familiar territory for both men, she thought. 

Eliza didn’t know how far they were from her old homestead, but she thought they’d be there within two days, at the most. If she was going to have any chance of escaping Ben’s clutches, it would be there on her home ground, an area she was intimately familiar with. She didn’t care if his story was completely true with no embellishments, she was not going to part of his feud for a minute longer than she had to be.  

She quickly finished her jerky, wishing for a bit of water to chase it, but Ben hadn’t offered any, and she wouldn’t be so forward as to drink directly from his canteen. Instead, she made herself as comfortable as possible next to the fire and closed her eyes. She was still awake when Ben returned, but she didn’t look at him, even when she felt him standing over her. She listened as he settled himself, snoring within minutes. 

It didn’t matter what Ford was accused of. It didn’t matter what he was actually guilty of. When the wolves started howling again, she longed for his solid body behind hers, his strong arms around her waist. 

#

Ben woke Eliza before sunup, forcing her to mount her horse before she even had her eyes open. The air was biting in the gray light, as the world hovered between day and night. She leaned over the horse’s neck, hoping to warm herself, but it was an ineffective method. She shivered, her entire body shaking with the force of the chill. Ben kept moving. 

The day gradually warmed as the sun climbed higher over the distant mountains until her shaking subsided. By the time her stomach began growling for breakfast, fresh sweat was rolling down her face and neck. The horses loped forward in a steady, unshakable pace. It occurred to her she could break away, force her horse into a fast run across the desert. But she didn’t know where to go, she didn’t have any water, and she thought Ben wouldn’t hesitate to shoot at her—not to kill her, but to impede her progress. 

The sun was directly overhead when Eliza’s eyes fell on a familiar landmark—a large quartz stone jutting out of the ground. They were at the halfway point. Was Ben familiar enough with the area to know they just had another twenty-five miles to go? If so, would he want to push on? The thought of spending another night with him alone made her stomach churn, but at the same time, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to carry out her plan if they didn’t stop to rest for the night. 

Eliza decided not to comment on it, allowing the silence to continue to stretch between them. Overhead, a hawk swooped and circled through the sky. Its screech sent a shiver down her back, the hair on her arms standing on end. In a way, it was worse than listening to the wolves. The hawk couldn’t hurt her, of course, but the cry seemed dire, an evil portent. She tried to push the notion out of her mind, but she couldn’t shake the growing feeling of doom. It gnawed at her as the closed the miles between themselves and her old home. The burnt out shell she thought she would never see again. 

Now, she might be making another stand there. 

Eliza felt thick, like she had been padded with thick cotton. Her vision wavered, moving with the low buzzing she heard from somewhere around her. The sun parched her lips and cheeks, plastered her hair to her reddening scalp. Ben finally brought them up short when Eliza’s fingers slipped from her reins, giving the horse his head, about three miles after the quartz landmark. He took the horse’s bridle, offering her water. She took it gratefully, gulping it down unmindful of the way her stomach twisted. Before she could gag, Ben gently took the canteen from her hand, capping it again. 

“We’ll stop before long.” 

Eliza nodded, but she didn’t believe him. He didn’t relinquish the reins to her, instead wrapping them around his own saddle horn. She didn’t mind. She gripped the saddle horn with both hands, holding it tight enough to whiten her knuckles, terrified of fainting and falling off the horse, sliding to the ground without obstacle. 

“Can we stop?” She finally asked, unmindful of her resolve not to bend an inch for him, or show weakness. 

“No, it’s best to keep moving.” 

“But I…I think I might pass out…” She licked her chapped lips with disgust. 

“I’ll tie you to the horse,” Ben said without turning around. 

Eliza blanched at the thought. “No, no…” 

“Are you sure?” He looked at her now. “I’d hate for you to fall of your horse. You could get a nasty bruise.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

Ben looked up, studying the sky with squinting eyes. “I’d say we’ve got another seven or eight hours of good traveling light left.” 

Tears stung the corners of Eliza’s eyes, but she didn’t even have enough energy to cry with frustration. Seven or eight hours? How could she possibly keep herself from…

Eliza’s stomach jumped, her body jerking. She turned her head just before all the water, and the remains of the previous night’s jerky dinner, burst from her throat. Hot water dribbled down her chin as she gasped for breath, trying to wipe her face. She moaned, her midsection twisting. Her body heaved again, but there was nothing left to expel. 

“Sun sickness,” Ben said, still towing her horse along. “Real danger out here in the desert.” 

“Please…” 

“I can’t give you more water right now, it’ll just make you sick.” 

Eliza gagged a third time, and again, it amounted to nothing. She couldn’t seem to stop the reflex, her body heaving each time she thought she had herself under control. Her horse danced around, upsetting her balance even more. 

“Maybe you should…” Eliza whispered, unaware that she even planned to speak. 

“Should what?” 

“Maybe you should…tie me to the horse…” 

Ben stopped the horses, reaching for a length of rope from his saddle bags. He pulled her horse up alongside his, leaning over to secure her hands to the saddle horn. She watched him with detached interest, as though it was knotting the rope around another woman’s hands. Once he finished, she tested the ropes weakly, but they were tight. 

“That should hold you,” he announced. 

Eliza continued to stare at her hands. Ben kicked the horses forward. The sand blurred around her until it seemed she was surrounded by a tan and beige river, flowing but never moving. When she looked back to her hands, they seemed to have merged into one single, indefinable mass. 

“Oh, this is funny,” she muttered, but she couldn’t laugh. The sun froze in the sky, locked in place over her head, draining her, baking her, leaving nothing but a shell. She closed her eyes to shut out the dry visions, finding a small degree of solace in the blackness. 

Eliza found she couldn’t open her eyes again. Soon, she stopped trying. 

#

Cool, sweet water soaked Eliza’s lips and tongue before running down her throat. She opened her eyes, sputtering and choking as the liquid was caught in her air passage. Ben slapped her on the back hard enough to make her teeth rattle, forcing the stray drops of water out of her lungs. 

“Wakey, wakey,” Ben said. 

Eliza looked around, her eyes adjusting to the dim orange light of the campfire. The sun had long been down, if the cool temperature against her still damp skin was any indication. The horses were a few feet away, munching on the sparse grass that covered the ground. Ben tilted the canteen her way again. Eliza grasped at it greedily, drinking as much as she could before he took it away from her. 

“You don’t want to get sick again, do you?” Ben chided. 

“Where are we?” She asked, suddenly afraid that they had already passed her homestead. 

“About five miles from your place,” he told her. 

Eliza closed her eyes, sending a quick prayer of thanks up to the heavens. Just five miles. She wouldn’t be so weak the next day. She would be able to survive five miles. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so weak,” Ben said, his tone conversational. 

“What do you mean?” Her throat ached, her vocal chords sounded tight. 

“Didn’t you make this trip before without passing out?” Ben asked. “I can’t imagine a man like Ford hauling you across the desert at his own detriment.” 

“Ford was very accommodating,” Eliza said stiffly. “He at least made sure I had enough water.” 

“Well, we’ve got schedules to keep. This isn’t a joy ride.” 

“What schedules?” 

Ben avoided the question. “Did you see Corbett, before he died?” 

“He shot at me,” Eliza said. “More than once.” 

“Were you firing at him?” Ben asked. 

“No. I was hiding in my bedroom.” 

Ben lifted his hand, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t you lie to me now, woman.” 

Eliza resisted the urge to shrink back, out of his reach. “I’m not lying. I was hiding in my upstairs bedroom when he opened fire.” 

“Corbett would never shoot at an unarmed woman…he probably wouldn’t even shoot at an armed woman. He was a gentleman,” Ben insisted, slowly lowering his hand. 

“I know what I saw.” 

“Look, I’m sorry…I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this.” 

“Me too.” 

“All I’ve got is more jerky,” he said, handing her the meat. “But it’ll do.” 

Eliza accepted it, though she could still vividly remember the taste of the jerky going the other direction. She gagged and coughed, choking as much of the food down as she could. Once she was finished, she laid down again, hoping that sleep would claim her before Ben tried to start another conversation. 

Her thoughts naturally turned to Ford. Where was he? She could imagine him out there, lurking in the darkness, following their trail farther and farther south. More likely, he was halfway to Santa Fe right now. She would probably never see him again. If he wasn’t following them, would she be able to backtrack and find her way to Dead Man’s Corner again? She wouldn’t have a guide, and she had just slept through a good portion of the journey. Eliza cursed her own stupid weakness, angry that she didn’t have the chance to really study and memorize landmarks to guide her return trip. 

But if she did see Ford again, what would she do? She considered several scenarios, creating plots and planning long conversations, each one more elaborate than the last. In some, she shot him without asking questions. That provided a sort of satisfaction, but not the sort she wanted. Besides, she couldn’t shoot him until she had some answers. Most of them also included a confession—Ford confessing all of his lies before begging her for forgiveness. That was also satisfying, but a part of her turned away from that. She didn’t want to hear Ford’s confessions, because she didn’t want Ford to be guilty. 

The scenario she liked the most didn’t involve bloodshed or confessions. She just wanted to be with him again. She just wanted him to touch her face like he did on the Reids’ veranda. She just wanted him to kiss her like the first time in her bedroom. Eliza couldn’t think of the last time she had gotten so much satisfaction and comfort from just being near another human being, but Ford put her at ease, even when she was angry with him. 

Eliza regretted every angry moment. 

She prayed with all her soul, her lips moving silently. She prayed to God that Ford would burst from the shadows at that moment, relieving her of this endless nightmare, rescuing her from the careless mercy of this stranger who would see her dead of dehydration before they even reached Mexico. She always had faith in God, but as the minutes passed and she remained alone in the darkness, that faith began to wane. 

“Are you asleep?” Ben asked. 

Biting her lip, she turned her face away from him. The fire warmed her neck and back, but just barely. Why hadn’t she appreciated the beds in town more? 

“We’re gonna find my brother tomorrow,” Ben informed her. “I don’t care if takes all day.” 

That was fine with Eliza. It bought her more time.

“And we’ll give him a proper burial.” 

A proper burial. Like the one John Brownstone barely got. Why did Ben think he was the only one who ever lost anything? Why did he get to take revenge? She should have the right to avenge John Brownstone on anybody remotely tied to his untimely death. And that included Ben, now. 

“He’s nothing but a rotting corpse now,” Eliza said. 

“The sun and dry air will keep him preserved till we find him,” Ben said, unperturbed by Eliza’s cruel remark. “I wish we could be friends, Eliza.” 

“You nearly killed me today.”

“I knew you’d be fine. You underestimate your own strength.” 

Eliza sighed, hoping she wasn’t the only one who underestimated her strength.    



	8. Chapter 8

Eliza could see the black, twisted pieces of wood sticking out like broken fingers at least two miles away. She kept her eyes locked on what remained of her home as they closed the distance, struggling to overcome the unexpected pain in her chest. Jake had built that house for her, to make her happy, to raise a family in. Their dreams were cut short, and maybe that was for the best, but she didn’t know if she had the courage to face down those destroyed dreams, especially since she had nothing to support her, nothing to fall back on. 

When they were within a half mile, Eliza asked if they would be stopping. 

“Hadn’t planned on it.” 

She didn’t panic. “I’d like to check and see if anything survived the fire.” 

“Don’t have time.” 

“I know where your brother is.” 

Ben pulled his horse short, turning around to face her. “What?” 

“I know where you can find your brother,” Eliza said calmly. 

“How do you know?” 

“Ford told me. He didn’t give me the exact location, but I know the land well enough. I know where to go,” she explained. 

“You’ll show me anyway.” 

“No, I will not.” 

Ben drew his gun. Eliza was tired of looking down the wrong end of a gun. “You will.” 

She didn’t flinch. “If you shoot me now, you’ll never know. I have no problem leading you to Corbett, but I need to stop at my home first. Plus, you’ll be able to get fresh water.” 

“Fine.” He holstered the gun and kicked the horse back into action. 

Vague forms began to take shape as they approached, until Eliza could make out three distinct bodies scattered across the ground. They should still have their guns. If she could get close enough to inspect for their supposed stars, she could grab one. Eliza didn’t know if she actually intended to shoot Ben, but she did know that she wasn’t going to spend any more time with him unarmed. Maybe he would just see the wisdom of letting her go…

She thought she might have to shoot him. 

Her stomach coiled with nerves, her heart leaping like a jackrabbit as they finally approached the old property. She wiped her palms against her sweaty, dirty dress, ignoring the way her fingers trembled. Ben stopped near the well, dismounting and nodding in her direction. “Do what you have to do? But don’t take too long.” 

Eliza dismounted as well, careful to tie the horse to the hitching post near the well. If firing started, she didn’t want her only way out to bolt with fear. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, avoiding eye contact. 

Eliza walked pass the bodies of Corbett’s dead men casually, glancing down to note that they still head their weapons, but none of them wore the star of deputy. Eliza bit her lip, not pausing to examine the bodies more carefully, wary of Ben’s steady eyes on her back. She needed to buy a few seconds of time, get her thoughts in order. She wouldn’t have another chance like this, and she didn’t want to ruin it. 

Eliza didn’t look at what remained of her house as she made a beeline for the cemetery in the back. John’s grave still looked fresh, compared to Jake’s. Of course it did. He had only been buried for a little over a week. Just two weeks ago, they had been sharing dinner in the warm kitchen, enjoying their time together, silently calling each other  _ family _ . She hadn’t cried for John Brownstone, and now the tears bubbled from deep within her. She angrily wiped them away, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. She could not give in to her emotions now, not during the next, crucial minutes. 

Eliza bowed her head to say a prayer for John, and for herself, when she noticed something metallic out of the corner of her eye, reflecting a sliver of the sun into her face. She turned her head sharply, her eyes falling on a half-buried gun, its barrel glittering in the sunlight. On closer inspection, she saw that it was John’s gun, the one that had been in his hand when he died. How did it get over to the cemetery? Had he still been holding it when Ford had carried the body from where behind the barn? 

No, that wasn’t possible. 

Then how did it get all the way across the yard? It couldn’t have been the wind. Scavengers? But how would a scavenger carry such a large weapon several feet? And why? Eliza bent, pushing the sand away from it. It looked fine, but she knew she could be mistaken. Carefully, she picked it up, cradling it in her hand. It was the same gun she had pointed at Ford when he first rode into her life. How different this past week would have been if she had used it on him when she had the chance. 

Eliza sighed, opening the chamber the way John had shown her. There were still four bullets. Smiling, she snapped it shut. She could hear Ben pulling water from the well. If her luck continued, he would have his back to her. She crept along the side of the burnt skeleton of wood, peaking around the corner to see that Ben was facing away from her, his body bent over the side of the well. 

Eliza stepped from behind the house into the open, leveling the gun at Ben’s back. “Put your hands up,” she yelled across the yard, “Slowly.” 

Ben jumped. She knew she would fire if he reached for his gun, but he did as he was told, turning slowly as he did so. “What are you doing there, Eliza?” 

“I don’t want to go to Mexico with you.” 

“Fine, fine. We don’t have to go to Mexico.” 

“No, I don’t want to go  _ anywhere _ with you. Do you understand?” 

“Eliza, I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Ben said, his voice calming and reasonable. 

Eliza nodded towards the dead men near her feet. “He’s not a deputy, Ben. Why would he be riding with your brother, the U.S. Marshall, if he’s not deputized?” 

“Eliza, Ford is a dangerous man. If you’re just trying to get back to him, he’s probably already gone.” 

“This has nothing to do with Ford! I want to go home.” 

“I can’t let you leave, Eliza.” 

“Do you think I won’t shoot you?” She shouted. “Do you think I don’t have the nerve? Do you think I can’t aim? I shot this man. I blew most of his head off.” 

“I’m sure you have the nerve, Eliza. But what will you do if you kill me? You don’t know the way back to the Corner,” Ben pointed out. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.” 

Ben began to lower his arms. “Now, Eliza…” 

“Keep them up!” She shouted, an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice. “Don’t play with me, Ben. I’m not staying here, and I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

Ben continued to lower his arms, his hand getting closer to the gun he wore at his side. “Eliza…” 

“Don’t move,” she shouted. “Don’t you move!” 

“Listen…” 

“Don’t move!” His hand was within inches of his gun, and she knew she couldn’t allow him to outdraw her. If he could touch his gun, she’d be dead. 

Eliza shot, the force of the kickback making her stumble back until she fell on her behind. Looking up, she saw Ben staggering forward, his right arm hanging uselessly at his side, the bullet tearing his shoulder apart. But there was nothing wrong with his left hand. Eliza lifted her gun again, struggling to get a good aim on his moving body. He reached across his chest for the gun on his right side, his fingers brushing against its bloody end. 

Eliza shouted at him to stop, but he moved closer and closer, finally getting a grip on his gun. She shot at him again, blindly, her arms sagging from the effort. He didn’t stop moving. Pointing the gun at her head, he sneered, blood dripping down his body in a steady current, staining the ground at his feet. 

“Should have learned to aim better,” he said. 

Gathering up what remained of her strength, she leveled the gun again. “Fuck you.” The bullet exploded through the air, burying itself just above his left eye. He fell backwards, firing his gun wildly with his dying breath. The bullets missed her, but she could feel the heat of one as it flew by her ear. He collapsed on the ground, an ungraceful, bleeding heap of flesh. She waited for him to move again, but he was motionless. 

Eliza fell back against the hot sand, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. She allowed the tears that had threatened her before to fall freely from her eyes, gasping for breath as she cried. She heard the familiar sound of galloping horses over her sobs, and she forced herself to her feet, ready to chase down her horse if she had to. She would not stay here for an extra minute, and she certainly couldn’t stand to stay the night. Eliza didn’t know if she believed in ghosts, but if they did exist, more than one would be haunting her. 

It wasn’t her horse fleeing, but another one arriving. Eliza tried to lift the gun, tried to look stronger than she felt, but she had nothing left, no more reserves to draw upon. 

“Eliza!” The rider shouted, the horse moving as fast as the wind. 

“Ford?” She shuffled forward. “Ford!” 

Ford jumped from the horse before it even came to a complete stop, running towards her, fear plain on his normally inexpressive face. “Are you hurt?” 

Eliza shook her head. “No…No, I’m fine…” 

“I heard shots.” 

Eliza pointed to what was left of Ben. “I told him I didn’t want to go with him.” 

Ford reached her side, gently taking the gun from her hand before wrapping his arms around her. “I was worried I was too late,” he said against her hair. 

“Where were you?” 

“I’ve been following you, but I didn’t want to risk exposing myself and having you get caught in the crossfire.” 

Eliza inhaled deeply, her face dry against his damp chest. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again. I thought you thought I was gone, but Ford, I would never…not after I promised…” 

“Shh, I know. I knew you didn’t go anywhere. I saw you, remember?” 

“I didn’t know if you did…What happened? Everything’s so confusing…” Eliza’s body shook. “I’m so tired.” 

“We’re going to have to stay here tonight. It’s too late to start back.” 

Eliza looked at him, her eyes wide. “No, no, we can’t stay here. It’ll be too dark. We can’t. We have to leave right now. I don’t mind, I won’t be scared, I promise. Come on.” 

“Eliza…Eliza…listen to me. You can’t go out again like this. You need to rest. I know he pushed you too hard. And now you’ve got quite a shock on top of that. Are you sure you’re not hurt?” 

“He didn’t have the chance to shoot me…he tried. I  _ told _ him not to touch his gun. I told him I’d shoot him. He didn’t believe me.” 

“The man was never known for his intelligence,” Ford said, kissing her forehead. “Come on, we’ll settle in the barn for the night. Then tomorrow morning we’ll decide what to do.” 

“I never wanted to come back here.” 

“I know.” Ford led her across the yard, supporting most of her weight as she shuffled along. She couldn’t stop shaking, her legs and fingers jerking and knocking together, and she thought she might puke. The light was too bright, each sound was too loud, the sun too hot against her back. 

Ford held her with one arm while he pushed the hay into something resembling a bed with the other.

“Here…” Ford said, gently pushing her to the pile. “I’m going to see if I can find food.” 

“Where?” Eliza asked, frowning. 

“You might be surprised by what I can find.” Ford smiled, but he didn’t look happy. He watched her for a few seconds, holding her eyes with his, before finally leaving her alone in the barn. 

#

Ford returned some time later with a battered, scorched pot full of potatoes that had seen better days in one hand, and a skinned rabbit in the other. 

“The cellar more or less survived in tact,” Ford explained. “I gathered what looked edible.” 

Eliza nodded. “I’m not surprised.” 

“Managed to catch a rabbit too. I guess the poor guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

Eliza nodded again. 

Ford built a small fire, feeding it wood and hay until a pile of red-hot coals formed at the bottom of the shallow pit he had dug. He placed the pot directly over the coals, filling it with water from the canteen on his belt. Once the water started to boil, he quartered the rabbit, dropping the pieces into the bubbling water. He produced an old onion from his pocket, cutting it into slivers and letting it fall over the rabbit. 

“There, should have a stew in no time.”

When the rabbit was cut into the pot, he surprised her by disappearing with a large tin pale in hand. He returned minutes later, placing the tin of water to the side of the fire, close enough for the water to warm. 

“What’s that for?” Eliza asked. 

“Later.” 

Eliza’s stomach began to grumble as the mellow smell of potatoes and onions drifted to her. Despite her hunger, she didn’t know if she’d be able to eat. 

“Ford? He said that Corbett was a U.S. Marshall, and he was chasing you.” Eliza looked up, meeting his eyes.  _ Is this true? _

“Did you believe him?” 

“I don’t know what to believe, Ford. It made sense though, didn’t it? That would explain why you were a good day ahead of the men you claimed to be tracking,” Eliza pointed out. 

“It’s a common trick to get ahead of what you’re tracking, especially when you know where they’re going.” 

“Ben was a Marshall though, wasn’t he?” Eliza asked. 

Ford nodded. 

“And I shot him,” she said dully. 

“Don’t you worry about it. Nobody’s coming after you.” 

“How do you know? I’m sure everybody in town saw him leave with me…” 

“Then it was self-defense. But nobody is going to arrest a woman for murder.” 

“Why not?” 

Ford looked up from his boiling pot. “Because then they’ll have to kill her. Nobody has the taste for hanging women.” 

After what Eliza had just been through, she didn’t quite believe him. Mayor Reid couldn’t hang a woman, but he could allow one to be kidnapped and dragged off into the desert? Eliza didn’t believe it. 

“He just wanted revenge,” Ford said. “And he took the cowards way, trying to get to me through you.” 

“I don’t know if I can trust you…” Eliza muttered, hating herself for even saying the words. 

“You already do.” 

“I don’t know if I can continue to trust you.” 

“Would you shoot me if you had the chance?” Ford asked, twirling a piece of hay in his fingers. 

“What?” Eliza understood the question, but she didn’t understand why he would ask such a ridiculous thing. 

“Would you shoot me right now? If you were armed and got the drop on me? Would you shoot me in my sleep if you had to?” Ford elaborated. “What would you do to get away from me?” 

“I wouldn’t shoot you,” Eliza whispered. “I could never…I could never do that…” 

“Even if you knew you had a clear shot?” He pushed. 

“I wouldn’t shoot you!” She repeated, her voice rising. 

“But you shot Ben, didn’t you? And you even believed his story. You must have, or you wouldn’t have questioned me.” 

Eliza sunk back into the hay. “I had to shoot him. I didn’t know what he was going to do with me. I didn’t know what his plan was. I couldn’t spend another day with him, or another week, or another month.” 

“But you don’t know what I’m going to do to you either,” Ford pointed out. “And you never did. What if he was right, Eliza, and I’m the bad guy? What if I lied to you, and I’m the one who shot the sheriff in the back, right before I shot his pretty wife? What then?” 

“Why are you saying these things?” Eliza cried. “What are you trying to do to me? I don’t want to believe that you’re the bad guy, Ford. I don’t want to be afraid of you. I don’t want…I don’t want…” She couldn’t catch her breath. 

“Hey, hey, shhhh.” Ford moved to her side, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “I’m not trying to upset you. There’s no way for you to know who is right or wrong, who is lying or telling the truth. But you can trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. Trust your gut, Eliza. What does it tell you?” 

Eliza answered by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him as close to her as she could. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, calming as she inhaled his familiar scent, felt his warm breath against her neck. She did trust him. It could have been a mistake, but his was the only friendly face she knew. 

“I kept thinking that I wouldn’t get to you in time,” Ford said, his words heavy with emotion. Eliza gulped, holding her breath so she wouldn’t miss a word. She had never heard him speak with so much feeling. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I kept as close to you as I dared.” 

“You were there?” Eliza asked. 

“Of course.” 

“Why didn’t you just kill him in his sleep!” Eliza exclaimed, pulling away from. 

“He never slept. He stayed awake, watching you, and I watched him. If he knew I was there, he’d shoot you first before trying to take me. Killing me isn’t revenge…not the kind he wanted,” Ford explained. 

Eliza shuddered at the thought of Ben watching her as she slept. 

“I can’t let you go back to England,” Ford said. 

“I thought you said I was a free woman, and I could travel where I please?” 

“I did say that. And you are still a free woman, but Eliza, I…” Ford took a deep breath, and Eliza realized how hard it must be for him to admit his feelings…admit that he even had feelings. “I’d miss you too much. When Reid told me you had left, I believed him for just a second, but it was the worse second of my life.” 

Before Eliza could respond, Ford untangled himself from her arms and returned to the fire, stirring his stew with metal spoon that had also survived the fire. It was a little twisted and deformed, but it did the job. Eliza watched him, not speaking. She didn’t know what to say. She never expected to hear that sort of confession from Ford, had never planned for it, and she didn’t even know if she wanted it…

That was a lie. 

That sort of confession was all she ever wanted from him. She could admit at least last much to herself. Knowing that he wanted her, maybe even needed her a little, was enough to keep her from taking the train to New Orleans. 

“What happened in town?” Eliza asked. “Why…I don’t understand how it happened.” 

Ford looked at her, clearly relieved that she had changed the subject. “Reid wanted one simple thing. He wanted to be the strongest man in town. The only man in town with any sort of authority. In order to do that, he had to get rid of three people.” Ford held up three fingers, bending them as listed the names. “Pierce, Ben, and me.” 

“Why you? We were leaving town anyway, right?” 

“Reid is paranoid, and he isn’t the sort to take chances. I did take care of Pierce, as per our contract, but while I was busy with his dirty work, he was busy making plans behind my back.” 

“But I still don’t understand why he had to run you three out of town…” Eliza said, playing with the hay beneath her fingers. 

“I don’t know either. He could be doing anything right now. Or he could be doing nothing at all, happy now that he doesn’t have to worry about any potential troublemakers.” 

“But you don’t think that’s the case,” Eliza guessed. 

“No, I do not.” 

“And you want to see what he’s up to.” 

“I want to see justice served,” Ford corrected. 

“Justice? Justice for what?” 

“Kidnapping. Attempted murder. He can’t get away with it. He gambled, he lost.” Ford shrugged, as if it was a settled deal. 

“I just want to leave, Ford. I don’t want to be stuck in Dead Man’s Corner. I want to go to California, with you. I want to put this whole thing behind me,” Eliza pleaded. “We don’t even have to go through the Corner to get to Silver City. We never have to go back there.” 

“You want him to get away with everything?” 

“What difference does it make? He doesn’t have any real power. Let him play King of the Mountain with his miners if it makes him happy,” Eliza spat. 

“I’m sorry, Eliza. If we had left when you wanted, none of this would have happened.” 

“Well, that just goes to show that you should listen to me, because I’m always right,” Eliza said with a smile. 

“A bit cheeky too, aren’t ya?” 

“Yes. And starving.” 

“I know. It’s almost done.” 

Eliza watched him thoughtfully. His hair was a dull yellow in the slanted sunlight, his face relaxed but still lined with worry, his hands sure and quick, his body tight, as though ready to spring into action at a second’s notice. She didn’t know where he was from, where he came from, or even what went on behind his hooded eyes. He was still a mystery, despite the time they spent together, still an unknown quantity. 

A part of her still thought that running away with him to California was a nice dream, but nothing more. He said he wanted her. He said he would miss her too much. But men like him didn’t settle down, and she couldn’t shake that notion even as he finished preparing their supper. She would have to marry him. Did she love him? 

_ You married Jake and you didn’t really love him _ . 

Well, that was true. She knew that love was not a necessary requirement for marriage, but she thought it might be nice to have it this time around. But she was getting ahead of herself. She didn’t even think he was the type to settle down and she was already worrying about marrying him? It would be best, she knew, to take things one day at a time. 

Before they could even consider getting married, or even running away to California, they needed to get out of Dead Man’s Corner. Despite her announcement that they wouldn’t even have to go through town, she knew that the road they traveled would take them right through the center of the Corner, directly down Main Street. If they were lucky, nobody would notice them. But she doubted either one of them had that sort of luck. 

“Are you worried about going through the Corner again?” Eliza asked. 

“No.” 

She couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. 

“Do you have bowls for that?” 

He shook his head. “I couldn’t find any. But I do have another spoon.” 

“We’ll make do. The night I was at the Reid’s…I heard shooting outside. Was that you?” Eliza asked. 

“No. Wasn’t me. I wasn’t anywhere near the house that night…” 

“I thought it might have been you because you said you’d come by to see me,” Eliza explained. 

“I tried, but I was a bit tied up.” 

Eliza bit her bottom lip. “Somebody was outside shooting, Ford. And Elsie didn’t seem the least bit surprised.” 

“Maybe she knew who it was.” 

“Maybe.” 

Ford removed the pot from the fire, carrying it over to Eliza’s side. “Now be careful, it’s hot.” 

Eliza ate because she appreciated the time Ford took to make it, and because she was still shaking and tired, but it really tasted awful. The onion hadn’t been enough to add any flavor, the potatoes were a bit undercooked and carried the distinctive taste of smoke, and the rabbit was gamey. She didn’t complain, eating until she didn’t feel so empty inside. 

“I’ve had worse,” Ford said, when he finally dropped his spoon. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Ford smiled dryly as he put the pot next to the fire. “It was better than nothing.” 

“It was very good.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me.” 

Eliza smiled. “Who says I’m lying?” 

Ford laid down beside her, stretching out on his back, his head resting on his hands. He pulled her against him, wrapping one leg around hers. She rested her head on his chest, gradually relaxing as his even breathing soothed her. To her horror, she felt a new wave of tears building. She didn’t think she’d be able to suppress these, like she had before. Her mind flashed to John’s grave, and that’s all it took. Tears flowed freely from her eyes. 

“Hey there, the food wasn’t that bad.” 

Eliza shook her head. “No…no…it wasn’t the food…” 

“I know.” He pulled her completely onto his body, her breasts smashed against his chest. He wiped her face with rough fingers, allowing his fingertips to linger on her stained, damp cheeks. 

“I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” Embarrassed, she buried her face in his neck so he couldn’t see her. “I was fine…and…and…” 

“I think you haven’t been  _ fine _ since I showed up in your life,” Ford said, stroking her hair. 

“No, no that’s not true.” 

“Yes it is.” 

“Ok, it is.” She sniffed. “I miss John.” 

“I know how you feel. I lost my best friend too…” 

“Really?” 

“I’ve lost a lot of people, Eliza. But you don’t want to hear about that.” 

“No,” Eliza said, lifting her head. “I think I do. I want to know about you, Ford.” 

“My father had a ranch in Texas. Bought it and moved the family out there when I was around ten. There was a disputed piece of property on one edge with out neighbor, Trent Bullock, where the cattle grazed. There was a bit of a back-and-forth struggle. Bullock stole a few of our cattle to make a point. But things continued to escalate because Pa, he claimed he bought that property, and he owned it fair and square. Well, I was just a kid, so what did I know about it? Bullock had a son about my age, Brandon. We rode together. But things were set to burst…” 

“So you couldn’t be friends anymore?” Eliza guessed. 

“No. We went on the trail as hired hands, moving a couple thousand head across Texas. When we got back, the feud…well…we didn’t recognize our own fathers anymore. Things came to a head one night, in town. Me and Brandon were drinking and playing cards when Bullock stormed into the saloon looking for me. Said he was going to make my pa pay for what he had done, and pointed the gun right at me.” 

“What did your father do?” 

“Turns out May, Brandon’s mother, died earlier that night…natural causes. Bullock thought it was from the stress of the feud, like she just couldn’t handle the fighting anymore, and if Dad had just backed down, the May never would have died. Well, I wasn’t armed, but Brandon was. So he pointed his gun right Bullock and told him to drop it and go home.” 

“Oh…no…” 

“Then my pa came in, saw both the Bullock’s with their guns drawn, and drew his. Trent was aiming at me, Brandon was aiming at his own pa, and mine was staring down the barrel at Trent’s back. I was sitting there, unarmed, and more than a little drunk. Brandon told Trent to lower his gun again, and I said the same thing to Pa, hoping to calm the situation. Nobody budged. Brandon started shouting. Then a man I didn’t recognize stood up and pointed at Bullock as well, told him to get the hell out of the saloon, people were trying to enjoy their whiskey. 

“They all fired at once, it seems. When the smoke cleared, I was the only uninjured. Brandon was dead. Pa and Bullock were both shot, but still alive. We got them home somehow…” 

“What happened after that?” Eliza asked. 

“Don’t know. I left.” 

“You never went back?” 

“No. Never intended to stay away my whole life, but by the time I could make it back, there was nothing to go home to.” 

“But I bet you didn’t blubber like a baby,” Eliza said, trying to wipe her face. 

“Well, not in front of anybody, no.” 

Eliza tried to imagine what Ford looked like as a young man. It was difficult to mentally erase the wear and wind and sun from his face, even more difficult to imagine him with a boy’s youthful softness, or eyes that might have been vulnerable. 

“All over a piece of land…” Eliza muttered. “Something so stupid.” 

“Nothing stupid about land,” Ford said, “Especially when it’s all a man’s got. I’ve seen men die over dumber things.” 

“Like what?” 

“A horse. A woman. Gold.” 

“I’ll give you the first two, but gold?” 

“There’s plenty of it around. No need to get greedy,” Ford pointed out. 

“But weren’t you greedy when you agreed to go after Pierce?” Eliza asked. 

Ford frowned. “That was different.” 

“If you say so. Who died over a horse?” 

“Just some guy I used to know…got in an argument over who the damned animal belonged to. He drew his gun, but he didn’t move fast enough.” 

Eliza rolled her eyes. That was a stupid thing to die over. That was a stupid thing to die over. She realized then that her face was dry, the tears had ceased. 


	9. Chapter 9

Ford kissed her while she was distracted with her tears, moving his mouth over hers in a slow dance, drawing her into a deep kiss that made her forget about the world outside her little barn. Without breaking the kiss, he turned them over, pinning her body to the ground, covering her face with his hands. 

Eliza moved beneath him, pulling at the buttons on his shirt, eager to feel his skin against hers. She wanted to hear his heart beat, taste his sweat, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he pressed his body against hers. She wanted to keep her eyes open, she wanted to note every smile, every frown, every second that passed across his face, because she understood now that their time together was precious. She didn’t need him to tell her that he had missed her, that he was worried about her, that he wanted to be with her, because she could see it in his eyes, she could feel it in his mouth as the kiss they shared moved through a spectrum of emotions from simple need to hungry passion to a quiet desperation. 

“Don’t rip this one,” Eliza warned against his mouth as his fingers tore at her dress, “it’s the only one I’ve got.” 

“You look better without it.” 

She smiled, pushing him back gently so she could sit up. “Help me with the buttons.” 

His fingers flew down the back of her dress, unbuttoning it with ease. She yanked her arms out of the dress as soon as she could, pushing the material to her waist, exposing her breasts. Ford looked at her with undisguised lust, his eyes heavy as he noted the fine color of her skin, the dusky shade of her rosy nipples, the proud, upward slope of each breast. He cupped one in each hand, weighing them, rubbing his thumbs against her nipples. Eliza sighed, sinking back against the hay—ignoring for the moment the way it irritated her skin—focusing only on the way his rough thumbs made her nerves dance, made the area between her legs throb. 

Ford brought his mouth to one nipple, teasing it with his warm breath. Each time he exhaled, she shivered with delight. He wasn’t quite touching her with his lips, but she could feel him anyway, the phantom touch of his mouth making her twist and strain for more, for real contact. He continued to tease her, brushing the tip of his tongue against the peak of her hard nipple, sending pleasure like lightning through her midsection. Eliza gasped, burying her hand in his hair to force his head down, keeping with satisfaction as he finally pulled her nipple between his lips, suckling it and licking it with bare restraint. 

While he ravished her with his mouth on one side, he rubbed her with the center of his palm on the other. His hand was like a magnet, pulling her body closer and closer to him, forcing her to move without touching her. His hot, rough skin skimmed her delicate nipple, always with enough pressure to make her gasp, but never quite as much as she wanted. The simultaneous attention made her body twist, her legs coming together, her hands forming useless fists, as she arched her back to meet his touch. The agony was exquisite. She wanted him to continue, but she didn’t know if she could survive another second, and he didn’t seem interested in quitting any time soon. 

He finally gave her a moment to catch her breath, but it was shortlived. He stopped long enough to move his mouth to her other breast, trailing his lips across her chest, leaving dozens of small kisses in his wake. It seemed she only had the chance to inhale and exhale once before he knocked the breath out of her again with the delicate, thorough attention to each nipple. When she thought she would scream from the pressure he so casually built in her body, stoking the tension like he would stoke the fire, he finally offered an almost cruel relief, biting her nipple with sharp teeth. 

Eliza froze, prepared to shout with anger, but before the pain could really register, it turned into something else, something  surprising, something bright and hot that filled her like molten gold. As if to help along the unexpected orgasm, Ford twisted her other nipple between two calloused fingers, making her yelp and sit straight up, her back ramrod stiff. Again, the pain evolved into something sharper than pleasure, something that seemed to shake her body with the strength of dynamite. Ford kissed her, catching her surprised shout in his mouth as a powerful orgasm crested in her body. 

“Has that ever happened to you?” Ford asked, brushing the hair away from her forehead, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Not like that,” she breathed. 

“Me neither…here, help me out here…” He guided her hand to his crotch, tucking her hand beneath his waistband. She didn’t need further instructions to grip his shaft. He thrust his hips forward, encouraging her to move her wrist. Eliza stroked him slowly at first, but moved faster as she grew more comfortable, somehow entranced by look of pleasure on his face. 

Ford came quickly in her hand, surprising her with his speed as well as the unexpected sensation of his warm liquid against her skin. With a sigh, he pulled her hand out of his pants. She looked at with a bit of embarrassment, unsure of what to do. He solved the problem when he stripped his shirt from his body and handed it to her. 

“Here use this.” 

Eliza wiped her hand on his shirt, worried that she was staining it, but he seemed far from concerned. He tossed it away and leaned over to kiss her again. 

“Wait…I thought…” Eliza started, putting her hand against his chest. 

“Did you think we were done?” He asked. 

“Maybe.” 

“We’re just beginning, sweetheart.”

Ford pulled Eliza to her feet, quickly undressing her. She stood in front of him, naked except for the sun draping her shoulders, a soft blush coloring her neck and face. She crossed her arms, self-consciously covering herself, but he took her wrists and pulled her arms away, exposing her to his hungry eyes. Ford had looked at her nude body before, but never with this sort of passion, this level of scrutiny. 

“What are you doing?” She finally whispered, unable to stand still for another moment. She tried to twist away, but he held her place. 

“I’m looking.” 

“You’ve seen me before,” Eliza said. 

Ford merely smiled, quickly undressing himself. She wanted to touch him, but she kept her hands to herself, waiting for him to finish. He laid their clothes out on the hay, creating a cushion against the prick of sharp grass. He didn’t turn away from her, didn’t even seem to notice the way her eyes lingered on him. It was like she had never seen him before—the sight of him startled her, frightened her a little, but aroused her more.

Ford tested the water in the pale with the tips of his fingers, nodding with satisfaction. “This should do.” 

“Do for what?” Eliza asked. 

Ford opened his saddlebag, rooting through it until he found a fairly clean square of cloth. “And this will do too. Would you like a bath?” 

“A bath?” 

“Well, it’s not a proper bath. But it should be enough to get the sand off.”

“Oh, oh, that sounds…thank you…” Eliza breathed as he pulled her closer to the low fire. 

“Allow me,” he said, dipping the rag into the warm water. Eliza closed her eyes, enjoying the sound of the water dripping from the rag, the pop and crack of the fire, and Ford’s even breathing. He wiped her face with the damp, hot cloth, clearing the dirt and sweat from her forehead and cheeks. Her face felt cool and fresh everywhere the rag passed. 

Ford worked efficiently, dipping the rag into the hot water several times as he moved down her body. When he began, she wished they had soap and a big, deep, proper tub, but as his fingers moved across her skin, she forgot about everything else. All she cared about was the warm water trickling down her body, the way her skin tingled and sparkled, the way her flesh tightened everywhere he touched her. 

Ford was thorough, not neglecting any bit of her as he scrubbed every inch of her body. He followed the rag with his lips, kissing each clean inch of skin. Eliza didn’t know how she could remain standing, her muscles turning to a quivering mass. Finally, he finished the soft torture, tossing the rag back into the bucket before straightening.    

“I don’t know how you do this to me,” Eliza murmured, as he closed the space between them. 

“What?” He asked. 

“This,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his as she grabbed his hand and boldly guided him to the wet skin between her thighs. 

Ford smiled. “I see.” He slipped his fingers between her lower lips while he kissed the corner of her mouth. “You’re so slick…so hot…I love the way you feel…” 

Eliza shivered, swaying forward against him. She wrapped her arm around him, holding herself up as he continued to explore her, moving the tips of his fingers across her nubbin. His lips were busy, moving across her face, jaw, and her neck. She didn’t know if she wanted to turn to water in his arms, or crawl up his body as the tension mounted. Ford gradually moved lower, his fingers never ceasing as his mouth skimmed her sensitive nipples, pausing there only long enough to make her moan. 

Eliza realized distantly that he was kneeling in front of her, but she didn’t understand his intentions until after he gently pushed her thighs apart. The sensation of his wet, satiny tongue against the curve of her inner-thigh made her gasp…feeling the tip of his tongue sliding between her full lips made her jump back, turning her body away in shock. 

“Hey,” he said, gripping her thigh. “Where are you going?” 

“What…what are you doing…?” 

“I’m tasting you,” he murmured, grabbing her other thigh, pulling her in front of him again. 

“But that’s…” 

“What?” He challenged. 

“It’s…”

“Tell me,” he invited, sliding his tongue along her slit again. 

“I…” She moaned. 

Ford flicked his tongue quickly over the tip of her hard nub, her pulse racing in response. She could feel her blood racing south, making her swollen, making her flesh sensitive to each breath, touch, lick, caress. Ford looked up at her through his eyelashes, his eyes questioning. He clearly expected her to say something. She didn’t have anything to say. Her silence seemed to be answer enough for him.  

Ford moved his mouth slowly at first, allowing her the chance to become accustomed to his hot lips, to his probing tongue, to the way he held her in place with fingers like steel clamps around her thighs. The initial shock wore away quickly, leaving nothing but blistering pleasure in its place. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails leaving dark, red, crescent moons in his skin. 

Ford didn’t remain gentle, though. He seemed to be devouring her, using all the tools he had against her body. He licked, sucked, even bit her flesh, finally thrusting two fingers into her shaking body. Eliza shuddered, thrusting her hips forward unconsciously, seeking more pressure, more friction. He brought her to the edge of bliss, holding her there with his clever mouth, alternately licking and sucking on her hard nubbin, moving his fingers in tandem with his tongue and lips. 

Eliza thought he would hold her there forever, steadily increasing the tension until her body would snap, until the world would gray and blacken around her. She knew she would beg him if she thought it would make a difference…or if she knew how to beg for what she wanted. She didn’t know the proper language, the correct words as distant and elusive as the hawks that screeched above the desert floor. 

_ This is a sin, _ she thought as coherence slipped away.  _ This must be a sin. This must be… _ Eliza tensed, a blast of fear suddenly overwhelming her. She felt herself drawing away from Ford, floating across the land and sea to the Church of her youth, where an angry minister with a deep voice railed at them from behind a tall pulpit. He had seemed to her young eyes larger than life, his face an impossible, impassioned shade of red, his words terrifying in their width, and breadth, and accuracy. She couldn’t remember his name, but she did remember his message. They were going to hell. They were all going to hell, and the loose women, the whores, the harlots, would be leading the way. Eliza knew that allowing Ford to lick and suck her in the most private of places branded her as such. 

Eliza pushed at his shoulders in vain, trying to communicate her discomfort, her unease. Ford didn’t notice, or he wasn’t interested in responding. Her new-found conscience did bitter battle with her raging body, struggling valiantly against her natural responses, her natural needs. Eliza’s chest ached. Time was meaningless in the face of the eternity she was staring down. 

She looked down, focusing her eyes on the top of his head, studying the various shades of blonde that spoke of a thousand days under a thousand different suns. Everything she did with Ford was sinful, every thought he inspired, every desire he awakened, every quiet minute they spent in each other’s arms. If she was worried about sinning, she should have left him when she had the chance. If she was worried about the status of her immortal soul, she would have walked away before shooting anybody, would have walked away before kissing Ford…would have avoided America and the great unknown that beckoned her in favor of the peaceful fields and ancient churches of England. 

So, Eliza let it go. She released her doubts, released the vague guilt that nagged at the back of her mind, released herself to Ford’s care without further hesitation. That last of her reserves melted away, allowing her to relax against his thrusting fingers, his probing tongue, his soft lips. The moment she turned herself over to him, her body seemed to split, to tear apart at the seams. Eliza felt broken, boneless, unable to do anything besides moan Ford’s name. Helpless, she clawed at him, until she was finally pieced back together, rebuilt an inch at a time, until a new woman stood in front of Ford, the last echoes of her orgasm making her tremble. 

Ford continued to hold her thighs, gently pushing her back until she was standing over the makeshift bed he had created with their clothes and the hay. She sat down gratefully, her legs useless, her lungs tight. He crawled over her body, crowding her with his musky skin, his taut muscles, his mouth that tasted of her juices when he claimed her mouth. Eliza froze at first, surprised, but a bolt of electricity shook her body to her toes at the taste of her own arousal. She buried her hands in his hair, gripping his head so he couldn’t pull away from her. Eliza deepened the kiss, her tongue feuding with his as she thrust her hips beneath him, silently pleading with him to continue. 

“What do you want?” Ford asked, teasing her with his low, rough voice.

Eliza shifted her hips, eager for the fulfillment of his earlier silent promises. His fingers and tongue had taken her to the greatest heights of sensual bliss she had known, but she knew they were both capable of more, and she wanted all of it. 

“Tell me,” he encouraged, his lips a soft whisper against her ear. 

“You,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, her hands flat against his back. “You.” 

Eliza made it a point to keep her eyes open as he entered her, watching the play of sunlight in his hair and eyes. A thousand questions suddenly filtered through her mind, each one important, each one demanding an answer. She cupped the side of his face, touching his leathery skin with a quiet awe. The day’s dying rays glowed around his head, highlighting the depths of his eyes, and the surprising lines around his mouth that spoke of a lifetime of quietly amused smiles. 

“Oh…Ford…” She breathed—a statement, a plea, a supplication, and even a question. How could the entire world be limited to his dear face, reflected in his eyes? 

Ford rested his forehead against hers, not breaking the bond that grew between them, strengthening by the second, by looking away. The questions she had fluttered away, learning everything she needed to know from the way he moved, the way his breath felt against her face, the way his eyes matched hers without hesitation, without concealment. Every inch of her flesh seemed to be a part of his, as if they were melding together, evolving into a new being.

Ford quickened his movements, thrusting into her harder, driving her into the hay until it fell around her shoulders, in her hair, between their bodies. Eliza barely noticed the blizzard of dry clover and alfalfa that fell on their sweaty, flushed skins. The dust swirled around them, dancing around their heads as the moved deeper into each other.  

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

It was still cold and dark outside when Ford roused her from sleep, encouraging her to dress by the light of the fire. Eliza did so without protest, but her eyes and limbs were heavy. He offered her a bit of coffee he had from his saddlebags, as well as a piece of jerky, leaving her to eat breakfast while he saddled the horses. An unexpected excitement settled in her gut. She felt as though they were about to embark on a real journey…the kind of journey that fulfills destinies. 

Ford had stripped Ben of everything except his clothes. He packed Ben’s old horse with Ben’s belongings, weighing the animal down with as much extra water as he could. Eliza looked at the lifeless shadow on the ground, relieved that she couldn’t make out his face in the pre-dawn light. A part of her still moved by Christian sympathies wanted to bury him, and his brother, but Ford didn’t seem interested in taking the extra time to see to the bodies properly. 

Eliza picked up the gun she used against Ben, intending to bring it with her, but after a moment of hesitation, she decided to leave it on John’s grave. It seemed like the right thing to do, though she couldn’t quite explain why. 

When the first golden ray of the morning touched the ground at their feet, Ford asked if she was ready to go. 

“I’m ready to get far, far away from here,” she answered. 

“Good. Let me help you up.” Ford boosted her onto the sedate horse. “Now, listen, if you need anything, let me know when we’ll stop.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I’m serious. I don’t want to see you tied to a horse again.” 

Eliza smiled. “I understand.” 

“Good. Let’s ride.” 

“Ford?” Eliza asked, before he mounted his horse. 

“What?” 

“Was there anything else…in the house? Anything else that survived the fire?” 

Ford pulled a small object out of his saddlebag. “This.” 

Frowning, Eliza reached for it. Her frown turned into a smile when she realized what he was holding. It was a small metal box with a little keyhole in the front. She didn’t have the key, but she knew they could bust it open with a heavy rock if they had to. Eliza never expected to see the box again, but now she hugged it to her chest with elation. 

“This is wonderful,” she exclaimed. 

“What’s in it?” 

Eliza smiled slightly. “Personal stuff.” 

“Personal stuff? Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?” Ford asked. 

“Maybe one day….” She tucked it into her own saddlebags, her heart beating a happy tune against her chest. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” 

Ford settled in his saddle, surveying the land around them in the growing light. “How much of this is yours?” 

“Jake put in for 500 acres.” 

“Are you going to keep it or sell it?” Ford asked. 

“I…I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought of it. I suppose the money would be nice, and I know that a dug well will probably double it’s worth…” 

“Triple, at least,” Ford told her. “But you don’t need to worry about the money. If you want to keep it, you should.” 

“What for? I don’t want to come back…” 

“Consider it an investment,” Ford said, wheeling his horse around. He untied the third horse from the hitching post and wrapped the reins around the horn of his saddle. “Maybe your kids will want it one day.” 

Kids? She hadn’t thought of having kids since before Jake died, and after he was gone, she put the idea out of her mind. But he had mentioned it so casually, like it was a foregone conclusion that she would have children one day, and further, she would want to have something to give them. 

Kids. Babies of her own…

_ Forget about it. That’s just what people say. He wasn’t telling you he wanted kids. _

Of course she understood that, but sometimes thoughts could take a hold of a person, like a cat grabbing a mouse’s neck. Eliza realized it wasn’t just the thought of having children that captured her imagination, but everything that having children meant. Being married, having a home, settling down, really starting a new life, a second chance. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eliza said. “Maybe it would be nice to have something to…pass on to the next generation.” 

Ford squinted, studying the clear blue-gray sky above their heads. “You know, we won’t be able to go around the Corner.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“We won’t stop though. If you want, we’ll push right through to Silver City.” 

“I think that’ll be for the best.” 

Ford nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Eliza looked back just once as they rode away, when the house was far away on the horizon. She couldn’t make out the details, but she didn’t need to be up close to know exactly how the warped wood twisted around itself. She realized that this time really was goodbye. Even if she didn’t sell it, she wouldn’t be returning. Not by choice, anyway. 

“You never went home again?” Eliza asked, pulling abreast with Ford. 

“No.” 

“Did you miss it? At all?” 

“There’s too much to do, too much to see to be stuck in the past.” 

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” 

“Do you plan to return to England?” He asked. 

“No. No, I don’t plan to.” 

“But you miss it?” 

“I don’t think about it that often.” Eliza smiled. “Because there’s too much to do and see, I guess.” 

“You know,” Ford said, his eyes straight ahead on the road in front of them, “We don’t have to settle down right away in California.” 

“Oh?” She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. 

“There’s a lot out here you probably haven’t seen. Shoot, you probably think the entire country is nothing but hard desert…” 

“I saw some mountains from the train,” Eliza told him. 

“I could take you to the top of the mountains…and show you the whole world at your feet.” 

Eliza smiled. “That sounds nice.” 

Ford looked at her sideways, returning her smile. “Think we can make twenty miles today?” 

“I think I’m willing to try.” Eliza felt like she could do anything with Ford by her side. 

#

When Eliza woke in the gray light of dawn on the third morning of their trip, she could see Dead Man’s Corner in the distance, an obvious deformity on the landscape. She drank from the canteen, staring thoughtfully at the town, wondering at the secrets it held. Before, it had been a bit terrifying, but the potential for harm had been on an individual basis. This man or that might want to hurt her, or might fight with Ford, but now Eliza knew better. The town was only months old, but already the stench of corruption infested it. 

Ford might have been able to tell her it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but Eliza thought it was very strange. Her hair stood on end at the thought of returning, but she knew they wouldn’t be there long. They would just have to tolerate it for a short time, like they tolerated the desert’s oppressive sun, or the air that danced around them in the heat, baking their skin. 

“We’ll be there in just a few hours,” Ford said from behind her. 

“I know. Will it be safe? I mean, will Reid…” 

“He was in it for the money. I doubt it was anything personal,” Ford said. 

“But what if he feels threatened or something? What if he wants to make some sort of pre-emptive strike?” Eliza asked, unable to lose the image of Elsie pointing a rifle at them from her bedroom window. “They’re crazy. Maybe it’s something in the water.” 

“They are crazy,” Ford agreed. “But I don’t think they’ll try to shoot us, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Eliza shook her head. “I just have a bad feeling. Somebody is waiting for us, Ford, I just…I just know. I can’t explain it.” 

“That’s your instincts. Nothing wrong with listening to them.” 

“So, let’s listen to my instincts. What should we do?” 

Ford kicked sand over the few coals still burning in the small pit. “The mines are to the east of the town. Which means there are sinkholes, dynamite, and jumpy miners waiting to take a shot at whoever trespasses over their claims.” 

Eliza nodded. “What’s to the west?” 

“Hideouts. Caches. Guards with guns. Indians. There’s a reason I didn’t want you to go to Silver City by yourself, and there’s a reason those miners are so jumpy.” Ford swept his hand across the horizon. “Think of that as a battleground with Dead Man’s Corner as the neutral zone.” 

Eliza shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would they even…No, I get it. They built a town there because that’s where the money is, right?” 

“Right.” 

“I guess we better get to it then. No sense in standing around talking about it all day,” Eliza said, removing the hobbles from her horse. 

“No, no sense in that,” Ford agreed. 

“Maybe it would have been smarter to just go to Mexico,” Eliza muttered as Ford helped her onto her horse. 

“No, you wouldn’t have liked Mexico either.” 

Eliza only frowned, her eyes drawn back to the Corner. She heard Ford mount his horse, remembering the day he taught her to shoot. No thinking, no second-guessing yourself. Eliza had a feeling that it would behoove her to remember that lesson, and remember it well. 

“Hey,” Ford said, moving along side her, “Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.” 

“Do you believe that, Ford? Honestly? What do your instincts tell you?” 

Ford kicked his horse into action, pulling ahead of her on the trail. Eliza sighed, wishing his answer hadn’t been so clear. 

She didn’t look away from the approaching town once, unable to tear her gaze away from their ultimate goal. As they closed the miles, they could hear the unmistakable sound of dynamite, even feel the ground vibrate beneath them. The horses pranced about, whipping their heads from side to side, until Eliza’s arms ached with the effort of keeping the beast under control. 

“Relax,” Ford said after she squealed with fear as her horse lifted both its front feet off the ground. 

“Relax? This…this cursed thing is trying to dump me!” She cried, pulling the reins tight. The horse leaned back again, not quite rearing back. 

Ford quickly grabbed the bridle, holding the horse down. “Eliza, he can sense your fear. He’s just going to get wound up tighter and tighter if you don’t calm down.” 

“I am calm!” 

The horse neighed, whipping its head around. Ford’s horse neighed in response, shifting its weight from hoof to hoof. 

“Eliza, listen to me. I know you’re nervous, but getting yourself dumped from the horse isn’t going to help anything. You need to relax.” 

Eliza took a deep breath. Her mouth tasted of copper and bile, and her throat ached each time she swallowed. Her legs trembled, as did her fingers. The anxiety increased with each minute that brought them closer. 

“I can’t,” she whispered. 

“I’m not going to let anybody hurt you,” he promised. 

“How can you say that? You can’t stop every bullet…you can’t fight an entire town. Something is wrong here, Ford, and I know you can sense it too.” 

“I can,” he admitted. “But would it make you feel better if I told you I was nervous? Would it calm you if you knew inside I was shaking?” 

“No,” she murmured. 

“Come on, then.” Ford didn’t release her horse, instead he hooked another rope through the bridle and tied the horse to his saddle. The ground shook with another dynamite blast, but she didn’t jump, and her horse seemed to relax. 

Eliza concentrated on her breathing, taking several deep breaths and releasing them slowly. The tension didn’t leave her muscles, but she didn’t feel ill anymore. Her throat relaxed, and a few swallows of the warm water hanging from her body was enough to wash away the bloody taste of fear. 

About a mile from town, Eliza noticed three or four riders bearing down fast, racing their direction. Ford noticed them too, calmly guiding the three horses to the side of the path to allow the strangers to pass. Eliza’s heart jumped in her throat as they appeared to slow as they approached, and she couldn’t miss the unmistakable glare of the sun against brandishing metal. They had their guns drawn. 

“What’s going on?” Eliza asked, as he too slowed. 

“I don’t know. They’ll probably keep riding without even noticing us.” 

Eliza didn’t believe him. Were they robbers looking to make a quick dollar? She knew they would carry away her box, perhaps believing that anything kept under lock was worth monetary value. Her heart sunk at the thought. Of course, she’d only have to worry about it if they didn’t actually kill her first. 

“Hey there!” The strange man shouted when he was within a hundred feet. “Halt.”

Ford pulled the horses short, quickly unknotting the rope that held Eliza to his horse. Eliza didn’t miss the small, but meaningful act. 

“If firing starts, run,” he said under his breath. 

Eliza nodded. 

The men approached quickly, ignoring Ford once they pulled up beside their horses. “Are you Mrs. Eliza Quinn?” The leader asked, his words coming from behind a thick, red beard. 

“I am.” 

“Eliza Quinn, as the Sheriff of Dead Man’s Corner, it is my duty to place you under arrest.” He nodded towards her, and two of his deputies moved to take the horse’s bridle. 

“On what charges?” Ford demanded. 

“The murder of Bill Preston.” 

“Who?” Eliza asked. 

“The man who owned the hotel.” 

Eliza gasped. “He died?” 

“Yes, ma’am. The mayor sent us out to catch you. I can’t tell you how relieved we are to find your right outside of town.” 

The rest of his posse nodded in agreement. 

“But I didn’t mean to kill him. It was self-defense.” 

“That’s not what the witnesses say,” the Sheriff countered. 

“What witnesses? What are you talking about?” Ford demanded. 

“The witnesses at her trial. It was held…hey, Clint, what did the mayor say? Some fancy words…” 

“ _ In abstenia _ ,” Clint provided. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” 

“Sheriff, that’s not legal,” Ford said. 

“With all due respect, legal is what say it is. The trial was nice and legal, wasn’t it boys?” 

They all nodded in agreement. 

“So we’ve got to take you in now,” the Sheriff said, turning his attention back to Eliza. 

Eliza shook her head, unable to comprehend what was happening. They had already tried her and found her guilty? They were arresting her? Were they going to take her to jail? Would they shoot her if she resisted? Of course they would, she had no rights now. As far as they were concerned, she was already dead. 

“What…what’s going to happen to me?” She asked, trying to keep the terror from her voice. 

“We’re taking you to jail for now. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.” 

“Ford?” 

The Sheriff glanced at Ford. “Look, we don’t want no trouble. I’m just doing my job here, you understand?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s my job to keep the peace in Dead Man’s Corner, and if you are looking to disturb that peace…you’re going to have to answer to me.” 

“I understand,” Ford said mildly. 

“Good. Come on boys, we’ll get home by lunch.” 

“Ford?” Eliza said, her voice rising.  _ What are you doing? Don’t let them take me! Don’t let them  _ take  _ me!  _

He merely nodded at her, trying to reassure her without words. She understood, but she didn’t feel reassured. He remained motionless as they rode away, gradually growing smaller and smaller. She never took her eyes from him, never looked at the men who would so cruelly escort her to her death, never looked at the town that harbored dark shadows and darker hearts. She kept her attention focused on Ford, focused on the promises he made her. He said he wouldn’t let anybody hurt her. He said it, and she believed him. 

Eliza finally lost sight of him as they entered the town. 

“Brody, we putting her in jail?” Clint asked the sheriff. 

“That’s what Reid wants.” 

“But she’s a woman…” 

Brody shrugged, halting his horse in front of a squat building. “It won’t be for long.” 

Eliza’s heart sunk at the conversation. She would be forced to spend her last days, maybe her last hours on Earth, in a tiny, stinky cell…and if she was lucky, she wouldn’t be caged like a helpless animal for the entertainment of the men in town. 

Brody pulled her from the horse, using his bear-like arms to keep her subdued. She didn’t try to fight him, though. What would be the point? She was out-numbered, out-gunned, and too afraid to think clearly. He pulled her into the building, dragging her to the back where the cells were. 

“This should do,” Brody announced, pushing her into the last one in the corridor without warning. 

“Why are you doing this?” She cried as she hit the wall from the force of his shove. 

“Orders are orders,” he said tonelessly. 

“Please…I didn’t…” 

Brody held up his hand as he slammed the door behind her. The sound of the key turning in the lock echoed off the walls. 

“What’s going to happen to me?” Eliza asked. 

Brody shrugged. “Guess that’s up to the mayor.” 

“Would you want your sister or your mother locked up in a place like this?” Eliza tried desperately. 

“My sister or mother never would have killed a man,” Brody said, clearly finished with the argument. “Martha will probably bring your dinner around.” 

Eliza watched him walk away with a heavy heart, realizing she had nothing at disposal to defend herself. She couldn’t appeal to their logic, or their emotions, and she was a stranger. A stranger, apparently, guilty of murder. They had nothing to gain by helping her, especially if Reid now had the entire town in his pocket, with no opposition from anybody to stop him. 

Eliza sunk to the dirty cot, too weak to stand. She was faced with two choices. The same two choices she always had. Adapt and survive, or die. Eliza was exhausted, though. Physically tired and emotionally drained, she didn’t know if she had the energy to adapt again…to fight for her survival again. Who would? 

Maybe Ford. 

But Ford wasn’t here. 

Where was he? Would they let her see him one more time? Or would the mayor deem that as too much of a danger and forbid it? That scenario seemed very likely. 

Martha did arrive with a tray of food later that afternoon, though Eliza had no idea how much time had actually passed. Eliza didn’t recognize her, but she assumed based on the heavy make-up and her tight, too-short dress that Martha was a prostitute working in the other hotel in town. 

“You killed ol’ Bill, huh?” Martha drawled, sliding the tray beneath the cell door. 

“That’s what they say,” Eliza answered.

“Most of us girls agreed he had it coming. He was just awful about not paying. He had a tab with just about every girl in town,” Martha said, her hand resting on her hip. 

“So nobody really misses him?” 

“Misses him? Hell no, nobody misses that cocksucker! It was just a matter of time, we figure.” 

“You know, I hit him out of self-defense,” Eliza said. 

Martha nodded. “We thought so, but that’s not what the witnesses said.” 

“Who were the witnesses? How could there be a trial without me?” Eliza asked.

“I wasn’t there…I just heard about it from the other girls.”

“Look, he was trying to break into my room. He busted down the door, so I hit him. I didn’t mean to kill him…” Eliza explained. 

Martha nodded again. 

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” Eliza asked. 

“People have taken shots at Bill for far less reason,” Martha said. 

“Look, do you think you could help me then? You know I didn’t mean to kill him…and you know that I don’t deserve to die,” Eliza pointed out. 

Martha held up her hands, backing away from the door. “No, oh no. I’m not going to do nothing.” 

“Martha…please. Please. Can you just stand by and let this happen? I’m innocent…” Eliza said, reaching for her through the bars. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re nice enough, and it’s a real shame when folks die, but I sure don’t want to die any time soon. No ma’am. And you think they won’t kill me if I help you?” Martha shook her head, genuine regret lining her face. “Listen to me, somebody is going to hang. If it’s not you, it might be me. Or another girl. They’re bloodthirsty.” 

“Who? Who is bloodthirsty?” Eliza said, still straining to reach the girl. 

“All of them. Something ain’t right…with their heads. They’ve gone crazy, or something. I don’t know. All I know is that I plan to stay out of their way. Sorry.” 

Eliza could tell that the other woman really was sorry. And afraid. Eliza’s sense of unease intensified, though she hardly believed that was possible. What was driving this bloodlust? What was the basis for the fear? Eliza wanted to think it really was something in the water, but she suspected it was just pure human ugliness. 

“I understand. But can you tell me anything? Like what they plan to do to me? When they plan to do it?” Eliza asked

Martha shook her head. “No. No, I don’t know nothing. But…I’ll be bringing your supper tonight. Maybe I’ll have something to tell you then.” 

The front door slammed hard enough to shake the walls in the building. Martha jumped like a scared mouse and scurried out of the room before Eliza could ask more questions, or even thank her for her small kindness. 

She carried the food over to the bed, not hungry. She had hoped that Martha had thoughtlessly –or maybe slyly—included a knife with her meal, but she didn’t have such luck. In fact, it seemed that nothing on the tray could be employed as a weapon. She realized that for the first time, she was truly without options. No weapons to defend herself, no friends to rely on, no clue about what was happening. 

“Hey! You’ve got a visitor!” Brody announced while Eliza was still picking at her food. 

Excited, she jumped to her feet, hoping to see Ford. She couldn’t keep the disappointment and disgust from her face when Reid stepped through the door instead. “Well, look at what we’ve got here.” 

Eliza crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

“Just come by for a little chat. I couldn’t leave a fine young lady like yourself here all alone, without visitors, now could I?” 

Eliza bit her tongue, afraid that if she opened her mouth, a barrage of profanity and curses would hit him. She probably knew some words that would make the rest of his hair turn white to match his ridiculous eyebrows. 

“I must say, we were surprised to see you return. I thought you’d be buried by now.” 

Eliza’s stomach rolled at his cool, casual words, but she didn’t rise to his bait. Instead, she returned to her cot and resumed picking at the tray. 

“I bet you wonder why you’re here.” His smile dripped with false concern. 

“Not really,” Eliza said around a bite of bread. 

“Not the least bit curious?” Reid looked stung, like a child who lost his favorite toy. 

“I killed a man. I guess justice is swift out here.” Eliza thought she knew the game, and she’d be damned before she allowed him the satisfaction of seeing her plead for mercy, or argue in defense of her life. 

“Hmm, yes. Very swift. And unfortunate.” 

“You could tell me the truth,” Eliza said as she swallowed warm water from the small tin cup beside her plate. “But I don’t think the truth comes easy to a man like you.” 

Reid narrowed his eye. “I always intended to tell you the truth, Ms. Quinn. I do believe it is the very least you deserve.” 

Eliza pitched her voice carefully, keeping it distant and casual. “I’m listening.” 

“You can thank your friend, Ford.” 

“Oh? Well, if I’m allowed to see him again, I shall.” 

Reid waited a beat for her to continue speaking, but she bit her tongue again. Sighing with frustration, he added, “He’s the reason you’re here.” 

“Yes, I assumed that’s what you meant.” 

“I didn’t want to do this, you know. I sent Ben to kill him, though he has always been quite the worthless child, as soon as I learned that Ford was in town. Well, I guess you saw how that went.” 

Eliza bit into her bread again. 

“Then I set him up. Sent him to Pierce. Fastest gun in the New Mexico territory they say. Nobody can match him in a fair fight. The man’s reputation proceeded him.  It was an ambush, you understand. But Ford was still knocking on my door the next morning, asking after you.” 

“Yes,” Eliza said, “I was there.” 

“I’m fast on my feet, so I used Ben for another plan. I’m assuming that it failed as well, as you and Ford are both still alive.” 

Eliza nodded. 

“So now we move on to Plan C. It’s far from elegant, but I think it’ll get the job done,” Reid announced. 

“If you want Ford, then what am I doing here?” Eliza asked. 

“Because this isn’t about justice. It’s about revenge.” 

“Revenge for what?” 

“For killing Corbett.” 

“I hear he was a pretty bad guy,” Eliza said, “But he sure seems popular around here. What do they say about the company a man keeps?” 

“Corbett was like a son to me…so was his worthless brother. I knew when I saw Ford in town that it was over. Do you know what it’s like to lose a person you loved like a child, Ms. Quinn? It’s like losing a piece of yourself.” 

“Your child killed my best friend and burned down the house my husband built for me,” Eliza countered. “So you’ll excuse my lack of sympathy.” 

“It’s a shame, a real pity, that Ford loves you. I could have sent you out on the first coach to Silver City, and arrested Ford instead. Do you hear that?” Reid asked, cupping his ear. 

“What?” 

“That. Shhh, listen.” 

Eliza tilted her head, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. Finally, she caught the steady sound of hammers hitting wood. “Yes.” 

“They’re building a gallows. For you. It could have been for Ford, but…well, as I already explained, he loves you.” 

“And this is about revenge.” 

“Precisely. It’s good to see that you understand.” 

“Yes, I understand it all quite well.” 

“You are scheduled to hang the day after tomorrow at precisely noon. My dear Elsie will be preparing your final meal. Do you have any requests? It is highly unusual to allow for a final request, so I do hope you take advantage of the kindness I’m extending you.” 

“Griddle cakes.” 

“Ahh, she’ll be so pleased that you enjoy her griddle cakes.” 

“What can I say? They’re delicious.” 

“Aren’t they? Yes, I will relay this request to her.” 

“Since you’re in such a giving mood, may I have a chance to see Ford again?” Eliza asked, smiling sweetly. 

Reid frowned. “No, no I don’t think I can allow that. In fact, the deputies are told to shoot on sight if he attempts to meet you.” 

“What do you think is going to happen?” Eliza tapped the sturdy wood wall. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Better safe than sorry, that’s what I always say. Now, then, enjoy the rest of your meal.” He bowed at the waist before shuffling out, leaving her alone once again. 

Without thought, Eliza picked up the tray and hurled it at the bars, finally giving vent to the rage billowing in her chest. Did that…that…cocksucker think he could get away with this? Did he think she would just roll over and allow him to kill her?  _ It’s about revenge _ …again, the question came to her—why did they deserve revenge but she didn’t? 

Earlier she had felt helpless. Without tools, weapon, or a clear opportunity, it seemed that she would finally have to take option two—death. But now she realized she had a very potent weapon on her side. Pure, unadulterated  _ rage _ . Eliza couldn’t remember the last time she had been so angry. Her whole body seemed to glow, each muscle and nerve ending reacting to the potent anger coursing through her veins. Everything around her, every color, stood out vividly. Her heart hammered in her ears, the heated blood rushing to her face.

Reid wasn’t interested in justice, though he had a legitimate claim to it. He wanted to see Ford suffer. Eliza wasn’t interested in mercy. She’d get out of that cell, regardless of what it took, and she would show everybody in Dead Man’s Corner that there are some lines you can’t cross. 

Coming from the ordered world of England, such blatant lawlessness was still something of a shock to Eliza’s system, but she was coming to understand that the law of the gun ruled the territories. That was the law the men here respected. The only law that had any pull in this dirty world. That was fine. Guns didn’t scare her anymore. 

Eliza closed her eyes, a plan beginning to form in the darkness. She didn’t have a lot of time to perfect the details and implement each step, but she did have access to one potent weapon she hadn’t considered before. Her own body. In a town full of rough men and cheap whores, what could be more alluring, what could be more difficult to resist? A part of her recoiled at the thought, but now was not the time for weakness, or for hesitation. Now was the time to adapt. 

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

“How you doin’, Sweetheart?” 

Eliza jumped from her cot. “Ford?” 

He stepped from the shadows, approaching her cell door. “I came as soon as I could.” 

“Reid said that he wouldn’t let me see you,” Eliza said, her eyes stinging with relieved tears. “I thought I wouldn’t get a chance to talk to you again. How did you get past the deputies?” 

“It’s amazing what a man will do for a bit of gold,” Ford said with a grin. “But I don’t have much time.” 

“What are we going to do?” 

“You mentioned Reid came by earlier,” Ford said, as he twined his fingers through hers, “What did he tell you?” 

“I’m…scheduled…it’ll happen the day after tomorrow at noon. He said it was a shame that you…” Eliza stopped herself, suddenly unsure of what his reaction would be to Reid’s words. “He says it’s about revenge, not about justice. Apparently he was close to Corbett and Ben…” 

Ford rubbed his face with his free hand. “I didn’t know, Eliza. If I had taken my time…paid proper attention, we wouldn’t be in this fix.” 

“How could you know about every relationship and personal connection? Don’t be silly,” Eliza said, though a part of her strongly agreed with him. 

“I should have known. I walked us right into their trap…you would have been safer at that goddamned hotel.” 

“I would have been safer on the goddamned stagecoach to Silver City,” she corrected softly. 

They stood in a tense silence for several seconds, both considering everything they should have done differently. 

“I have a plan,” Eliza finally said, her voice low. 

“What?” 

“Well…gold isn’t the only thing that can distract a man.” Eliza smiled, hoping to soften the suggestion. 

“You mean you want to use yourself as distraction?” Ford asked. 

“Yes. And before you say it won’t work, I’ve thought about it a lot and…” 

“Oh, it’ll work,” Ford said, cutting her off. 

Her eyes widened with surprise. “Is that all you have to say?” She had expected more from Ford. Perhaps yelling and shouting, possessive posturing, territorial threats…she expected him to act like any other man in that situation. 

Ford shrugged. “I wouldn’t suggest it myself, but you’re right. The kid they’ve got in there right now is probably fantasizing about it right now.” 

“Oh. Well…I didn’t expect you to agree so quickly.” 

“We don’t have a lot of time to waste.” 

“I know…well, that was actually the extent of my plan. What should I do and when should I do it?” Eliza asked, prepared to follow his lead. 

“Tomorrow night. Late. Even after the saloons are closed. I’ll be waiting for you about two miles out of town. But I’ll be sure to have a horse ready for you. Just get out of here as quickly as you can,” he said. 

“What if it doesn’t work? What if he’s not interested?” 

“If I don’t see you by dawn, then I’ll shift to plan B.” 

“What’s plan B?” 

“Killing all the motherfuckers.” 

“I like plan B,” Eliza admitted. “If this works, if I get out of here tomorrow night, I don’t want to just disappear in the night.” 

“Oh? What do you want?” Ford asked. 

“I want to give them a taste of their own medicine. What goes around comes around and all that,” Eliza said, her eyes sparkling, her face burning. 

“I like the way you think…” 

“Hey…Ford?” The young deputy stepped into the hallway. “You’ve got to get going before somebody finds you here.” 

Ford turned to the young man. “What’s your name?” 

“Paul.” 

“Paul, do you own a claim?” Ford asked. 

“Me? No. I mean, I tried, but…” Paul shrugged. 

“But somebody beat you to it?” 

“Mayor Reid…he bought it…” Paul said. 

Eliza studied Paul with a critical eye, noting his thin frame, the ribs almost visible through his clothes, and his wan face. “How much do you make as a deputy?” She asked. 

“Oh, they don’t pay me, except for room and board.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a good deal. Why do you stay?” Eliza inquired. 

“Where else would I go?” 

Eliza and Ford exchanged a brief glance. “Paul,” Ford said, “How would you like to make a hundred dollars…in gold?” 

“A hundred?” Paul gaped. “But…I can’t let her out, Ford. I don’t want to keep her here, but even a hundred gold pieces isn’t worth my hide. Reid…he’s got a real hard-on for this one.” 

“What if we could offer you more than money?” Eliza asked quietly. 

“What…” Paul’s eyes widened as he understood her meaning. “You mean…you…and I? You would…with me?” 

“Yes.” 

He looked at Ford, as if expecting the other man to pull his gun right then. “Are you sure? Along with the gold?” 

Ford nodded. 

Paul hesitated, clearly weighing his options. His eyes kept flickering over Eliza, in a hungry, desperate way. She felt like a cow sitting at the market, but she didn’t let her discomfort show. 

“What do you want me to do?” He finally whispered. 

Ford explained the details, but Eliza didn’t hear them. All she could hear was the sound of her blood rushing to her head, a steady crashing in her ears, like waves beating a shore. She didn’t regret her decision in the least, but she was still shocked at how quickly she could…prostitute herself…even if she was doing it in exchange for freedom instead of money. 

“Can you handle that?” Ford asked. 

“Oh…yes, sir.” 

“You’re not going to betray us, are you?” 

Paul shook his head. “But if I’m going to help you, I need one more thing.” 

“Besides my gold and my wife?” Ford asked. 

Eliza jumped at Ford’s word choice. Wife? Did he already consider her his  _ wife _ ? 

“Protection. Reid’ll kill me.” 

Ford nodded. “Reid’s not going to kill anybody…but if you’re worried, you can come with us.” 

“Ford…” Eliza said, alarmed. 

“Come with you?” 

“Do you have any reason to stay here? Do you want to be Reid and Brody’s errand boy for the rest of your life, or do you want to be a man?” Ford asked. 

“I…I don’t want to be here for the rest of my life,” Paul stated. 

“So do something about it.” 

Paul nodded. “I will.” 

“So do we have a deal?” 

Paul stuck out his hand. “It’s a deal. But, you really have to leave. If somebody saw you here now…it’d all be over.” 

Ford nodded, turning to face Eliza again. She could see his apology in his eyes, feel it when he brought her lips up to his mouth. She tightened her grip on his fingers, unable to let him go. Paul could betray them. Reid could interrupt them. She could die without seeing him again, and she didn’t want anything to be left between them…no words that should have been spoken, no unfinished business. 

“Ford…I…” 

“Eliza…” 

“You’re the best husband I ever had,” she whispered, blinking the tears out of her eyes. 

Ford nodded, kissing her fingers one more time before releasing her. With the barest nod in Paul’s direction, he slipped out of the building, disappearing into the night. 

“When…” Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “When do you think you’ll be ready?” 

Eliza couldn’t help but smile at his hesitant question. “Tomorrow night, Paul.” 

He nodded. “I’ll just…leave you…give you some privacy now.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Shout if you need anything.” 

“I will.” 

Eliza returned to her cot, already thinking of ways to deal with Paul’s inevitable betrayal. She didn’t trust a soul in Dead Man’s Corner, even if they did have kind eyes and a gentle manner. 

#

The second day of Eliza’s confinement passed slowly, unmarked by visitors except Martha, who didn’t take the time to speak to her while dropping off her food. Eliza attempted to start a conversation, but Martha ignored her. 

After noon, Eliza pulled the cot over to the high, narrow window, so she could get a glimpse of the world outside. Balancing precariously on the cot, she stood on the tips of her toes and strained to see what was going on. At first, she could only see a blue batch of sky, and a brown patch of dirt, but as her eyes adjusted to the unfiltered sunlight, she noticed something new out of the corner of her eye. 

The gallows. 

Where had they found the wood? Perhaps Reid had a special delivery brought in just for the occasion, or more likely, it was left over from previous construction. But the structure was complete, a noose dangling ominously from the highest beam. A noose already tied to be the size of her small head. 

Her stomach rolled at the sight. Afraid of losing the meal she just consumed, Eliza stepped down from the cot and sat with her back against the wall, her eyes closed. She didn’t move from that position, or open her eyes, as the afternoon stretched on. She could feel the sun move across the sky, the hot light gliding over her legs and feet, until the first hint of a breeze brushed through her cell as twilight approached. 

“Ms?” 

Eliza opened her eyes, surprised to note that it was already dark. Paul stood in front of her cell with a lamp in one hand, another tray of food in the other. “Martha brought your supper, if you want.” 

“I’m not really hungry.” 

“Would you like to eat it with me in my office? You don’t have to stay in here anymore,” Paul said.

Eliza’s heart jumped, her faith in him returning. “Really?” 

“Everybody’s gone home for the night…or to the saloon. I don’t think anybody will see you,” Paul explained. 

Eliza jumped from her cot, rushing over to the cell door. “I’d love to eat supper with you.” 

Paul smiled, setting the lamp down and producing a key. Eliza watched as opened the door, following him silently to the office. It occurred to her that she could simply run, but if he was willing to keep his side of the bargain, she should do the same. Paul could be a powerful ally, if they treated him properly. 

“How long have you been in Dead Man’s Corner?” Eliza asked, once they were seated across from each other, two plates of food between them. 

“I came out last year,” Paul said, looking at his food instead of at Eliza. “I didn’t mean to end up here, you know, but it happened that way.” 

“Where you going?”

“I wanted to go to the mines in California. Find some gold. It seemed everybody who dipped a pan in water was striking it rich,” Paul explained. 

“You could still go to California.” 

“I’m stuck here. No horse, no money…I’m lucky they let me stick around as it is, and feed me every day.” 

“With us, I mean. You can come to California with us,” Eliza said, digging into a small pile of potatoes. 

“It’s mighty kind of you to offer.” 

“It’s mighty kind of you to help me,” Eliza responded. 

Paul leaned over the table. “It’s wrong what they’re doing to you,” he said, his voice lowered. “It’s wrong. If Reid wants Ford, he should go after Ford, try to get to him through a woman.” 

Eliza didn’t point out that it was also wrong to take advantage of a woman when she needed help. She appreciated that Paul had strong feelings on the subject, but she would appreciate it more if he backed out of the deal. One hundred gold pieces wasn’t a paltry amount, especially since he didn’t run the risk of getting caught and hung himself…well, not much of a risk. She was sure Ford intended to allow Paul to ride with them. He wouldn’t be abandoned to Reid’s mercy. 

“How old are you, Paul?” Eliza asked. 

“Nineteen.” 

She blinked. “Nineteen? You seem older than that.” 

“It’s the sun.” 

“I guess so. Where are you from, originally?” 

“Georgia.” 

“I’ve never been there, but I hear it’s nice,” Eliza said, trying to keep the conversation rolling. She wanted Paul to like her, to trust her, to feel comfortable around her. 

“It’s ok…I didn’t want to fight in no war, though.” 

“War?” Eliza shook her head. “What war?” 

It was Paul’s turn to blink with surprise. “The war between the states…happening right now. Where have you been?” 

“The desert. I don’t get a lot of news out there, you know.” 

“Yes, but you think somebody would mention it,” Paul muttered. 

“How long has it been going on?” 

“Fighting’s been heavy the past couple months. A lot of boys are dying. My parents probably think I’m dead. I’d rather them think that then have them know I ran away. Don’t want them to know they’ve raised a coward.” 

“You’re not a coward,” Eliza said softly, covering her hand with his. 

He looked down, his eyes drawn to where she touched him. His skin was warm beneath her hand, but surprisingly soft. “I’m not?” 

“You’re helping me, aren’t you? Nobody else in this God forsaken town would, and do you know why?” 

Paul shook his head, his eyes wide. Eliza could see the simple contact was having an unexpected effect on him, and it occurred to her that perhaps he had never been touched so intimately by a woman. They weren’t naked, but the way she held his hand was personal, warm. 

“They’re afraid,” she said, “but you’re not. Are you?” 

Paul shook his head. “No…well…yes. I am. A little. I don’t want to die, Ma’am.” 

“Well, neither do I. So we’ll have to work together. And please, call me Eliza.” 

“Eliza,” he tried, her name rolling off his tongue sweetly. 

Eliza looked down at her cooling food, forcing herself to eat another bite. She would be grateful when her life finally returned to normal—grateful for a bed, a regular bath, and her own kitchen. Paul wolfed down his food, barely taking the time to swallow before shoveling in the next bite. Eliza couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how he regularly ate, or if he was too excited about his time with her to worry about choking on a hunk of dry meat. 

Eliza slowed, considerably, taking time to chew each bit of food until it was nothing but mush. She was willing to go along with the plan, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. Paul wasn’t an unattractive kid, but he struck her more as a brother than a lover. He seemed the kind of boy who needed a bit of protecting, a bit of mothering. Eliza would have been more than happy to fuss over him, to cut his hair, to give him the sort of undivided attention that a lackey like him would never get from a woman—unless he was paying her.

When he finished, Paul leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his stomach, watching her with narrow eyes. 

“You’re the finest lady I’ve ever seen,” he announced. 

Eliza blushed at the unexpected compliment. “Well, thank you. But I’m sure there are ladies in Georgia much finer than me.” 

“No. Not at all. You’re like an angel.” 

Eliza thought of the sins she carried on her soul. Adultery, lying, murder…she was no angel. “It’s nice of you to say so.” 

“How long have you been married to Ford?” Paul asked. 

“We, uh…we’re not officially married,” Eliza admitted. “We’ve only known each other for…two weeks…” 

“Really? Wow, I never would have…” 

“You seem awfully surprised,” Eliza observed. 

“It just seemed like you two were much closer than that…he…he does love you.” 

Eliza smiled. “How do you know?” 

“You can tell how a man feels by what he’s willing to sacrifice,” Paul said, looking at her thoughtfully. “I guess you love him too.” 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” 

Paul checked the clock on the wall. “It’ll be a few more hours before we can safely leave. You can stay in here if you want…but I think that’s a bit risky. I’ll take you back to your cell, but I won’t lock the door.” 

Eliza stood up, confused. “You mean to leave me in there by myself?” 

“Yes.” 

“But what about…?” 

Paul rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous. “It just…it doesn’t seem right.” 

“Can you come in and keep me company? I don’t like sitting in there all by myself.” Eliza wasn’t sure she bought his change of heart, but she did know she didn’t want the boy to be out of her sight, at all, between then and the time they left. She didn’t want him to have any secret visitors, or step out and accidentally run into Brody or Reid. Eliza didn’t want him to have the chance to change his mind. 

“Yeah, I can keep you company.” Paul smiled, escorting her back to the corridor of cells. “You know,” he said, once they were both perched on her cot, “we never really use these much.” 

“What? The cells?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I find it hard to believe that nobody deserves to spend a night or two in jail,” Eliza said, thinking of the mean, closed faces she had encountered before. 

“They die before they get this far,” Paul said, his shoulders slumped. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Everything’s a hangin’ offense around here, it seems. Except, the mayor never hanged anybody…you’re special, I guess. He just shoots them.” 

“When?” Eliza frowned, remembering the mysterious gunshots. “Does he shoot them at night, Paul? Behind his house?” 

Paul’s eyes widened. “Nobody’s supposed to know. I overheard him and Brody talking about it one night. How did you know?” 

“I heard him. I went to investigate and Elsie…well, she pulled a gun on me and locked in my room,” Eliza told him. 

Paul didn’t seem surprised by this revelation. “She’s a nutter. I’ve never met a woman so crazy in my life.” 

Eliza smiled. “Me neither.” She sobered quickly. “But it can’t be a secret. The men must hear it at night, and of course, when people disappear…” 

“Nobody says a word when a man disappears from the Corner. We’re supposed to assume that his claim was worthless and he moved on.” Paul looked at her with narrow, serious eyes. “A lot of men have worthless claims around here.” 

Eliza frowned, beginning to understand. “That’s why you’re here alone, isn’t it? Reid killed…who did he kill, Paul?” 

“My brothers.” 

The air seemed as thick as water, wavering between them as she moved to comfort him, cupping his cheek against her palm. “He’s not going to get away with this.” 

“Who’s going to stop?” Paul asked.

“Well, we are, of course. I already told Ford I don’t intend to let him get away with trying to murder me, and there’s no way we can allow him to continue to murder innocent people,” Eliza said, caressing his jaw with the tips of her fingers. 

“I might be crazy, but I believe you.” 

Eliza smiled wanly. “It seems you’re the only sane one around here.” 

“Miss…Eliza…” Paul turned his head slightly, moving his cheek against her hand. “I think…can I kiss you?” 

Eliza nodded, tilting her chin up in a small invitation. His lips were warm, chapped, hesitant, and even boyish. Eliza didn’t know if he had ever kissed anybody before, but if so, it had been a rare occurrence. He didn’t have any grace, any finesse, his tongue blundering into her mouth. What he lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm—he shook like an over-excited puppy. Eliza realized that if she wanted, she could train him like a puppy. It was a shocking, heady thought, one that made her skin tingle and turn red. 

Paul broke away, his eyes wide, his glistening lips parted. He looked surprised yet intensely pleased with himself, and she could tell that he wanted to try again. Instead of allowing her to attack his mouth, she cupped his chin, guiding his lips to hers slowly. This time, she took control of the kiss, showing through example how he should move, how much to give, how much to take. She kissed him delicately, gradually drawing heat from the core of his body. She could feel it spread through his limbs and face as his heart quickened. When she leaned back, he looked at her with worshipful eyes, as though he was beholding his golden goddess for the first time after years of unquestioned faith. 

“I’ve never kissed no girl like that,” he said, his voice shaking. 

“You need to find yourself a nice girl,” Eliza told him. “Somewhere far away from here.” 

“Eliza…I know I said that I didn’t want…that we shouldn’t…but I’m…I’m in some serious pain here,” he said, grimacing. He looked down to the noticeable bulge in his pants. 

Eliza knew she had him completely enthralled at this point. She didn’t think it would hurt to work a little more magic on his eager body and naïve heart. “I imagine you are. I think I can help you.” 

His face lit up. “Really?” 

Eliza nodded, moving to straddle him. He gasped in surprise, and maybe pain, as she settled over his hard crotch. She distracted him with her mouth—covering his lips, cheeks, and neck in small, wet kisses—while she reached between their bodies to unbutton his pants. He caught his breath as she slid his hand down the front of his pants, skimming his shaft with her fingertips. 

“Oh…Oh…please…” He whimpered against her lips, his body tensing and thrusting forward as she wrapped her fingers around him in a tight grip. 

Eliza allowed him to kiss her the way he wanted, not turning away from his sloppy, unrefined mouth. She still enjoyed his enthusiasm, his hunger for more. She stroked him with sharp jerks of her wrist, turning the palm of her hand over the slick head of his manhood on every upward stroke. He shuddered each time she brushed against the sensitive skin, moaning and pleading in a garbled language for more. 

Eliza hadn’t expected to be aroused by the act, but she hadn’t expected Paul to look at her with such grateful desperation, and she hadn’t expected the myriad of sounds that escaped his throat and shook his chest, and she certainly hadn’t expected to feel a sharp edge of power cut through her body as she moved her hand faster and faster. Her own breath came ragged and tight, matching his, heightening the tension between them. She noticed his hands out of the corner of her eye, curled tightly around the old sheet, as if he was afraid to touch her—but even his fear wasn’t enough to restrain him. 

Eliza realized that she wanted—needed—him to touch her. Her muscles ached, her thighs were thick, and her blood burned as it moved from her head to her groin. She felt not tipsy, but drunk, her pulse erratic against her skin, her heart hammering in rhythm with her hand as she pumped his thick shaft.  

Eliza paused long enough to re-arrange herself on his lap, pulling her skirt high around her waist. She began rocking back and forth against his body, desperate to relieve the steady ache between her legs as her small button of flesh throbbed and hardened. Paul groaned, closing his eyes as he felt her damp flesh against his leg, felt her rocking harder and harder. He wrapped one arm around her, holding her close to him so he could feel her breasts against his chest. 

“Oh…I’m…God…” Paul cried out as he climaxed in her hand, the unfettered sound tugging at her body until her body shook with her own small release. 

Eliza kissed him gently as she pulled his arm away, sharing her oxygen as he panted. She ended the kiss quickly, however, afraid that if she remained in his lap, feeling his warm, sweaty, hard body beneath hers, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from going too far. Standing up, she tried to straighten her dress, doing her best to look cool and not like some sort of…

“Thank you,” he said, tucking himself into his pants. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, as well as uncertainty. 

“How much longer until we can leave?” Eliza asked, focusing on business to distract her from the heat still burning between her legs. 

“Ford said he’d have two horses outside around 12:30, in the back, and we’re to meet him just outside of town,” Paul said, pulling himself to his feet. “So ‘bout another hour, I reckon.” He looked down at his feet, shuffling his boot against the plank floor. “Look, I don’t know much about how things…go…I mean, I haven’t been around much, you know, but if you need…that is, I just want…” 

Eliza touched his arm, stopping him and saving him from further embarrassment. “Don’t worry about me, Paul. I know that you’d…well, you’d do your best if I asked it of you…but I’m not going to.” 

“What if things were different?” 

“Maybe.” 

Paul nodded. “I’ll, uh, give you some privacy until we leave. It won’t be long now.” 

“Thank you.” 

Eliza must have dozed, because it seemed like just seconds passed before Paul returned, a bulky coat in hand. “Here, put this on,” he said, “It’ll be like a disguise. Also, it’s a bit cold outside.” 

Eliza stood, allowing Paul to put the coat over her shoulders. It smelled of sweat and horse. 

“Are the horses outside?” 

Paul nodded. “Just try to be as quiet as possible.”

“What if Reid has guards posted?” Eliza asked. 

“Ford said not to worry about it,” Paul said, shrugging. 

Eliza nodded. “Let’s go then.” 

They slipped out the back door. The horses were waiting a few yards away, mere silhouettes in the night, the only light coming from the wash of stars above them. Eliza shivered, realizing it was the first night of the new moon. It seemed ominous. 

Paul helped her onto the horse without a word before mounting the second beast. Before kicking the horse into action, Paul held up his hand, tilting his head. She did the same, straining to hear anything at all, but a shroud of silence covered the town. Not even the sound of wolves or coyotes penetrated the thick silence. 

He nodded, waving his hand forward. Eliza wanted to give her horse its head, simply running away in the darkness of the desert where nobody could find her again, but she kept a tight grip on the rein, her arms aching from the tension. They guided the horses behind the town, passing by the backdoor of each building, riding low against the animals’ necks. She knew the town was small, but it seemed endless as the buildings stretched to her left. 

Eliza glanced over her shoulder several times, convinced she would see a pair of eyes—or several—trained on her back, staring her down over a barrel of a gun. She never saw anything but the night’s shadows. The silence gnawed at her. How could it be so quiet? She remembered the other night she spent in the Corner, when only gunshots broke the preternatural stillness.  She didn’t remember it bothering her at the time—at least, not in this way. But now she felt it as a serious warning. Their horses’ hooves didn’t even make a whisper of sound against the soft sand. 

As soon as they stepped outside of the town’s limits, she could breath easier. Her horse seemed to relax beneath her, and the first thing she heard was a wolf howling in the far distance. For the first time, she found the sound comforting rather than terrifying. The open desert had always been a source of fear for her, even before Ford rode into her life and pulled her from her safe, warm house. She never thought she’d consider it a place of liberation, a place where she could breathe easier. Eliza wanted to sing as they moved farther from the town, she felt so relieved. 

But something still nagged at her, despite her high spirits. They had made it out of that hell-hole far too easy. They had just been allowed to walk out. Eliza knew they timed it that way, planned the whole thing carefully, but it still felt wrong. 

“Paul,” she whispered, her voice carrying in the quiet air. “Paul.” 

“What?” 

“Where’s Ford?” 

Paul motioned vaguely in front of them, but that was hardly an answer to her question. Apprehension squeezed her heart. What if this was all a trap? What if he was leading her to her death? But how could he do that? He seemed like such a sweet boy….

And Elsie seemed like such a sweet woman. And Reid seemed like such a good man. And Ben seemed so trustworthy, wearing his shiny, gold star. When would she learn that things were not as they seemed at Dead Man’s Corner? Even now, she was far too trusting. Eliza cursed herself for being a fool. One sad story, a pair of confused eyes, and a boy’s soft face had tricked her into letting her guard down. 

Eliza was getting mighty tired of being taken for a fool. 

She decided to bide her time before trying to run away…a part of her wanted to believe that Paul wouldn’t betray her. It might have been a very stupid part of her, but it was strong enough to hold her back. Running wildly into the desert might not be a good idea anyway—she didn’t have any water, weapons, or sense of direction. Galloping into the night now could be the same as signing her own death warrant. 

Eliza caught movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, she saw nothing. Frowning, she kicked her horse lightly, encouraging it to move faster. They were moving at a clip pace, but she still felt vulnerable. She surveyed the area again, wishing for just a sliver of moon. Even the faded light from a quarter moon would be better than no light at all—the stars were bright, but not bright enough. 

“Paul, I…” 

“Halt!” 

Eliza didn’t recognize the voice. Her first instinct was to run, but she brought the horse to an abrupt stop, her heart sinking. She wouldn’t make it out of this place alive. Her luck had to run out sooner or later. 

Staring straight ahead, she didn’t notice who pulled up beside her. A strong hand closed on her wrist, the fingers almost bruising her delicate skin. She closed her other hand into a fist, prepared to punch the strange man in the nose if he didn’t release her. She could hear several other horses moving in, surrounding them. Paul didn’t appear nervous or surprised.  _ Bastard _ . 

“Eliza.” 

“Ford?” She turned her head sharply, trying to distinguish his features in the dim light. “Ford? Oh my God, I thought…I thought you were…I didn’t know if we’d find you.” 

“I was waiting for you.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I wasn’t going to miss you.” 

Eliza looked around, counting at least a half-dozen men. “Who are these people?” 

“Not everybody appreciates Reid’s plan to hang a woman in the middle of town,” Ford explained. “Especially since…well…you don’t need to know about that.” 

“He executes people at night?” Eliza asked. 

“How did you know that?” 

“It’s what I heard that night…what prompted me to go downstairs to investigate. Paul confirmed it,” Eliza explained. 

Ford nodded. “They’ve all lost somebody, and they’re ready to fight back.” 

“Great. When are we fighting?”

Ford frowned, reaching out to grab her reins. He led her away from the circle of men until they were out of earshot. “I don’t think you should fight,” he said. 

“What? You’re the reason I know how to shoot straight, and now you don’t think I should fight?” 

“I don’t want anything else to happen to you,” Ford said. 

Eliza sighed. “I understand that, Ford. I don’t want anything to happen to me either. But if I’m not by your side, what will I do? Wait for you here? So I’m like a sitting duck? I don’t want to sit around and wait for you, it’ll kill me.” 

“It’ll kill you to ride into town with guns blazing,” Ford pointed out. 

“I didn’t intend to do that.” 

“What do you mean?” Ford asked. 

“I have another plan…” 

“Oh?” 

“I think it’ll work but…” Eliza shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. If you think it wont’ work, then I’ll understand.” 

“What is it?” Ford asked, sounding genuinely interested. 

Eliza felt her heart swell, and if things were different, she would have felt not only happy, but elated. She understood that Ford really cared about what she thought, respected her. He wouldn’t dismiss her plan if it was good. Eliza couldn’t believe how much it mattered to her, how much it mattered what he thought, but it mattered a lot. She loved him. 

The revelation shouldn’t have been a great surprise to her. How could she turn her body over to a man she didn’t love? How could she surrender herself and trust him explicitly if she didn’t love him? How could she make plans to live with him in California otherwise? But the very thought took her breath away. She could barely remember what she wanted to tell him. Somehow, it didn’t seem important. Not as important as the emotions wrapping around her body, sliding under her skin like a thousand snakes. 

Of course, the most logical question now was how he felt about her. She could guess his feelings, but it didn’t seem wise to make assumptions. She wanted to ask him. Right now. But their private feelings weren’t their first priority right now. They would have to talk about it later.  

“Eliza?” Ford prompted. 

Eliza blinked, trying to clear her head so she could concentrate. She had spent the previous long, lonely night piecing together her plan for attack, imagining her role to the minutest detail. She regretted leaving her familiar, trusty gun on John’s grave—it had seemed like the right thing to do, but now she just felt stupid. She was sure Ford, or one of the men, would have a weapon she could use, but she didn’t want  _ their _ guns, she wanted her gun… _ John’s _ gun.  

The plan wasn’t comprehensive—for one thing she had no idea they’d have an entire posse behind them—but it provided an active role for her to play. She thought Ford could fit it with his plan somehow. She quickly gave him an outline, detailing what she would do and where. He listened, grunting occasionally. She couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine the thoughtful frown, the way his eyes would be half-closed as he listened. 

“I think this could work,” Ford said when she finished. “We set up camp about a mile that way. We’ll go over the whole thing there.” 

Eliza nodded. “Ford, I…” 

“Yes?”

Eliza shook her head. “Nothing, never mind.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” 

“Let’s go then.” 

They rode back to the men, Ford waving his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

They fell into line behind Ford, Paul pulling abreast with Eliza. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re going to go over the details for tomorrow,” she answered. 

“Are you…I mean, you’re going to wait for us, right?” He asked. 

“No.”

“But it’s dangerous.” 

Eliza shrugged. “It’s a dangerous world, Paul. I’m not going to wait for death to come to me.” 

“What does Ford say?” 

“He says that I’m a free woman and I can come and go as I please,” Eliza answered. She felt a sudden pang of guilt at his concerned questions, remember that just fifteen minutes earlier she was cursing him as a bastard and a coward. Maybe not every man in Dead Man’s Corner deserved scorn. But she thought it would be a long time before she could trust anybody completely, besides Ford. All the silent men behind her, armed to the teeth, made her nauseous. What would stop any one of them from opening fire? 

_ It wasn’t fair to expect the worst from Paul, and it’s not fair to think the worst of them _ , she reminded herself, but it didn’t do any good. 

Eliza hoped they couldn’t sense how much she feared and disliked them. It would take just one turncoat, one liar out of the seven men now joining them to ruin everything, to end all their lives. How did Ford know he could trust them? 

“Paul,” she whispered, “Do you know these men?” 

“Most of them.” 

“Are they…I mean…” Eliza hesitated, trying to find the proper way to phrase her question. 

“They’re good people,” Paul whispered back. 

Despite Eliza’s efforts to keep the conversation hushed, they must have heard her anyway. One man pulled up along the other side of her, tipping his hat. “Miss Eliza, we don’t intend you any harm. We just want to get our town, and our claims, back.” 

Eliza smiled, “Thank you, Mr…” 

“Frank.” 

“Thank you, Frank. I didn’t mean offense. But…” 

“I understand, ma’am.” 

As they rode, her anxiety began to be replaced with hope. It didn’t matter why these men decided to ride with Ford, all that mattered was that they had a common goal. 

Revenge. 


	12. Chapter 12

Dead Man’s Corner glowed as the sun sliced through the darkness. Eliza reined her horse in, surprised and dazzled by the way the light danced around the buildings. The peace of the fresh morning made the town look new, look whole, somehow. She hoped the golden light was a sign from above, a sign that they would accomplish their mission. Behind her, the men waited for Ford’s signal, all aware of, and agreeing to, the plan he had formed the night before. 

Eliza turned her head to study them quickly, the sight of them still a surprise. They were rough, angry men. Many of them wounded, scarred, or maimed. Many of them nameless, their Christian monikers replaced with mere labels or nicknames. They all moved quietly and spoke gently in the dark, lulling Eliza into an odd sense of security. She was surprised when she roused herself that morning to find a camp full of strangers—faces she barely recognized but voices she would now know anywhere. 

They seemed to believe that only the men in Reid’s pocket would attempt to open fire on them or fight back. Ford and Paul agreed with this assessment, though none of them knew for sure exactly how many people owed allegiance to the mayor. Sheriff Brody and his other deputies, as well as a handful of miners, were known quantities…but the rest of the town? They could ignore them or they could shoot them like dogs in the street. 

“Are you ready?” Ford asked, leading his horse to her. 

Eliza glanced at Paul, who nodded. “Yes.” 

“Good. You’ve got to hurry now. Remember though, take care of yourself first.” Ford skimmed his fingers across her cheek, an intimate touch that told her more about his feelings than words could. 

“I know. I’ll be careful.” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Paul promised. 

Ford let his fingers linger on her lips for the briefest moment. She put her hand up, holding his fingers against her mouth, kissing him before releasing him. Ford nodded. “I’ll see you on the other side.” 

Eliza wanted to say more, wanted to kiss him one more time, wanted to ignore the half-dozen pairs of eyes on them and feel his body against hers one more time. But there wasn’t world enough or time. She checked her guns one more time—a rifle on her saddle, a pistol at her side—before nodding and kicking the horse into a trot. 

Paul led her back to the Corner, taking a different route than the one they used to escape the town the night before. Now they rode on the mining side, abandoning their horses just outside of town. Eliza’s heart beat faster as they approached the mayor’s house, hoping that nobody would happen to look out a window or door and see the two of them hurrying along the path that wound around the back of the town. Eliza kept waiting to hear a shout, or gunshots, something to indicate they’ve been seen, but the early morning peace continued uninterrupted. 

“Be careful,” Paul whispered as they finally approached Reid’s house. 

“I know.” 

“Eliza…” 

Eliza touched his lips with the tip of her finger, shaking her head. She pointed to the mounds that littered the yard behind the house, indicating he should continue with his part of the plan. He nodded before scurrying off, a frown marring his face. Eliza watched him go, feeling the unforgivable weight of responsibility on her shoulders. If something happened to that young man, it would be her fault. 

Could she live with that? 

She didn’t have a choice anymore. She couldn’t call this back, she couldn’t unmake this decision. The wheels were in motion now, for better or worse. Eliza looked over her shoulder, noticing shadows converging on the corner of the town limits. Ford, getting his men in place. She had to move. 

Drawing her gun, she snuck up the steps to the back porch, ducking into the backdoor without further hesitation. Elsie was standing in the kitchen, as Eliza expected she would be, with her back to the door. 

“Put your hands up,” Eliza said, her words hard, allowing no room for protest. 

Elsie spun around, her eyes wide, her face a hectic shade of red. “How did you get here?” 

“Put them up,” Eliza repeated. “Don’t think I’ll hesitate to use this on you. I didn’t hesitate to use it on Ben.” 

That had the effect on the old woman that Eliza wanted. She blanched, raising her shaking hands above her head. “What…what do you want from me?” 

“Where’s your husband?” 

“He’s doing the chores.” 

“So you expect him soon, then?” 

Elsie straightened, her confidence returning as her fear fled. “He’ll be back any moment, and if you think he’ll allow this…this…If you think he’ll let you get away with what you’re doing, then you’re dead wrong.” 

“Oh, that’s just what I wanted to hear.” Eliza smiled. “I look forward to seeing him again. But you’ll just be in the way.” 

“What…what are you going to do?” She asked, her confidence ebbing again. 

Eliza glanced around the kitchen, spotting a pile of rags on the counter. She grabbed two, shoving one in Elsie’s mouth, then tying the second one around her head. She worked quickly with one hand, never taking the gun away from Elsie. Once the older woman was gagged, Eliza knotted two more rags together, then brought Elsie’s wrists behind her back. Eliza hesitated a moment when she felt Elsie’s paper-thin skin beneath her fingers…was she really going to bound and gag an old woman? 

“I’m sorry I have to do this,” Eliza muttered. “But it’s for your own safety.” 

Elsie grunted, trying to speak around the double gag. Eliza grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to her feet, then pulling her up the stairs. She pushed open the door to the room that acted as her own prison, shoving Elsie to the bed. 

“You stay in here, and don’t make a sound,” Eliza warned. 

Elsie narrowed her eyes, shooting daggers at Eliza. The door slammed downstairs, and they both heard the unmistakable sounds of Reid marching into the front hallway. Elsie immediately began making sounds, shouting as much as she could around her gag. 

“Shut up,” Eliza hissed, hitting her across the mouth. She would feel guilty later. “Don’t make a sound, or you’ll be shot. Do you understand?” 

Elsie nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. 

“Eslie! Dear! Where are you? We’ve got a big day today, you know.” 

Eliza smiled. “Don’t make a sound,” she warned, shutting the door behind her. She took a deep breath, turned the lock, and faced the stairs. 

“Elsie? Is there a problem?” She could hear him in the kitchen now. 

She hurried down the stairs, her feet light, like she had wings on her boots. Reid was standing near the fire, inspecting the stew bubbling over the hot coals. Raising her gun with a smile, she greeted him, “Good morning, Mayor Reid.” 

Reid spun around, the spoon falling from his fingers. He automatically reached for the gun on his belt, but she stopped him by pulling the hammer on her pistol back. “Put your hands up,” she said. 

“What do you want?” He asked. 

Eliza moved quickly, pulling the gun out of his holster and tucking it into hers. “What do you think I want?” 

“You’re not a very bright girl, are you?” Reid said. “A fine young lady like you should be smarter.” 

“What do you mean?” Eliza asked, happy to let him talk. She was there to distract him, after all. 

“I’m not sure how you escaped, though I suspect you probably tricked Paul. That boy is as dense as a bag of rocks. I’ll take care of him after you,” Reid promised. 

“What does that have to do with my intelligence, or lack thereof?” She asked sweetly. 

“You should have run away, my dear girl. You should have been miles away from here by now. I don’t know why you stopped here…revenge? But you’ll live to regret it.” 

“I will? That seems like an awfully empty threat coming from a man without a gun,” Eliza said. 

The mayor casually poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot bubbling on the stove. She didn’t like the way he acted, the way he moved around the kitchen so casually. But what did it matter as long as he didn’t leave? 

“Well, I’m sure you know that I don’t have to be armed. Sheriff Brody has probably already realized you’re gone, and he should be here any second,” Reid explained. 

“You think so? I bet Brody is still at the hotel, enjoying his breakfast. I’ll have time to kill you and your wife before anybody notices I’m gone,” Eliza said. 

“You wouldn’t kill anybody,” Reid said, stirring sugar into his coffee. He sipped the brew with a grimace. “That woman still doesn’t know how to make coffee after thirty-five years.” 

“That’s funny, I thought I was found guilty of murder,” Eliza said, her hands growing slick on the grip of the gun. 

Reid looked at her like she a particularly troublesome child. “If you wanted to kill me, you should have shot me in the back when you had the chance.” 

“I don’t shoot people in the back. Everybody I’ve killed saw it coming.” 

He spread his arms in invitation. “What are you waiting for?” 

“I don’t want to shoot you. But it would be a shame if the town’s new gallows went unused…wouldn’t it?” Eliza asked. 

“What are you going to do? March me through town? Like anybody would allow that.” A knock on the door interrupted him. “Oh, that would be Brody,” he said, standing up. 

“Sit down,” she barked. “I didn’t say you could go anywhere.” 

Reid sunk to his seat again. Eliza backed to the door, keeping her gun trained on him. When her other hand closed over the knob, she shouted, “Who is it?” 

“Open the goddamned door!” 

It was definitely Brody’s voice. She positioned herself behind the door before pulling it open, making sure that her glistening gun was the first thing Brody saw as he stepped into the house. 

“Good morning, Sheriff.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brody asked, his hands level with his ears. 

“I’m having breakfast with the mayor. Do you want to join us?” She grabbed him by the arm, dragged him through the doorway and slammed the door shut behind him. “Give me your guns.” 

“Make me,” Brody sneered. 

Eliza slammed the barrel of the gun into his gut. Taking advantage of his surprise, she yanked both guns out of his belt. She slipped them both under her belt. “Get walking.” 

“Brody!” Reid greeted jovially, “So nice of you to join us. Have a seat.” 

“What’s going on here?” Brody asked. 

“You’ll have to ask her,” Reid said, nodding towards Eliza. “I’m not sure what the hell is going on here.” 

“I just wanted to have breakfast before my date with the hangman,” Eliza said. “Help yourself to some coffee.” 

“How long do you think you can keep us here at gun point?” Brody asked. 

“Until I’m tired of it.” 

“As soon as you walk out that door, you’ll be so full of holes the miners can use you down at the stream,” Brody promised. 

“I’ll kill you first. At least then I can die with a clear conscience.” 

Reid moved suddenly in the corner of her vision, as though he was reaching for the guns in her belt. She turned quickly, firing the gun just above his shoulder. The bullet buried itself in the wall behind his head. He looked at her with wide eyes, his hands trembling. 

“I bet you felt the heat on that one,” Eliza said, grinning. 

“This is a joke. You don’t have the nerve to kill anybody,” Brody said. 

Reid leaned back in his chair, the blood not returning to his cheeks. He looked like a ghost. 

“It’s funny, we were just talking about that when you arrived,” Eliza said. “I don’t have the nerve to kill anybody, but I’ve got the two most powerful men trapped in town trapped in this kitchen. You must believe I’m capable of something.” 

“Maybe we’re just humoring you,” Brody said. “You’ll be hanging at Noon, as planned.” 

Eliza nodded. “You’re probably right. But the mayor already indicated that I’m not really guilty of murder, so I figure, I better be guilty of something before I dangle!” 

“What are you…” Brody started, but his question was smothered by the sudden, loud gunshot. Brody looked down at his chest, where a single stream of blood rolled down his shirt, his mouth shaped in a comical circle of surprise. 

“I don’t think you’re taking me seriously,” Eliza said, as Brody fell sideways, off his chair. “I’m sorry it had to come to that, but…” 

“You’re insane,” Reid whispered. 

“I hear being imprisoned and sentenced to death can do that to a person,” Eliza said. “You know, I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to get on that coach, and then get on the train, and  _ go home _ . I didn’t want to be caught up in your weird little revenge plot, I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of your problems. I didn’t kill Corbett. But he killed my best friend. And I’m the one being punished for it.” Eliza shook her head. 

“I’m sorry,” Reid said, his voice shaking. 

“You’re sorry? You’re  _ sorry _ ? Ben planned to kill me, and you knew it. And you’re sitting there, telling me how sorry you are?” Eliza snorted. “It’s not going to work.” 

“Somebody must have heard you shoot. They’ll be here to investigate. Are you just going to gun down everybody who comes to the house?” Reid said desperately. 

“You think so?” Eliza tilted her head. “It’s  _ my _ understanding that people don’t pay much attention to the sound of bullets anymore. I knew I heard at least seven shots in the dead of the night, and nobody came running. It’s kind of weird if you ask me.” 

“Yes, very strange,” Reid agreed weakly. 

A sound from outside the kitchen caught Eliza’s attention. Expecting to see one of Ford’s men—or even better, Ford himself—outside, she hurried to the window. But the face staring in was not a familiar one. Before she could react, his fist shot through the glass, connecting with her nose. Eliza stumbled back, too distracted by the pulses of pain radiating through her skull to notice Reid moving, darting forward to grab the gun sticking out of her belt. 

The front door flew open. Eliza spun around, hoping to see Ford or Paul, but again she was disappointed. Several men streamed into the door, each one with a sparkling badge announcing their status as deputies of Dead Man’s Corner. Eliza wasn’t shocked until she saw who followed them into the house. 

Elsie Reid. 

“What the hell…” Eliza breathed. 

“There’s my girl!” Reid exclaimed, before punching Eliza in the cheek. The surprise was more debilitating than the pain. In a matter of seconds, Eliza was left unarmed, tipsy, and helpless. 

“Oh, dear,” Elsie said, bustling over, “You’re going to get blood all over the kitchen. Here, let me help you with that.” She grabbed one of the remaining rags, handing it to Eliza. “You’re poor nose. You had such a fine nose, too. Didn’t she have such a fine nose?” 

“Get out of the way, dear,” Reid said mildly, pushing his wife to the side. “I’m placing you under arrest…again…Ms. Quinn, for the murder of Sheriff Brody.” 

Eliza tried to focus on him, but her vision was blurred. She didn’t need to have perfect vision to count at least six guns pointed directly at her, including her own. Elsie continued to flutter around her, holding a rag against her face, trying to wipe all the blood away from her chin and mouth. She shrank back as Reid lifted his hand again—her reaction was apparently, what he wanted, because he lowered his hand without striking her again. 

“Where’s Paul?” Reid asked nobody in particular. 

“We haven’t seen him, Sir.” 

“What did you do to him?” Reid asked. “Where is he?” 

“I don’t know,” Eliza mumbled. 

“What about his room?” 

“Empty. He’s just…disappeared…” The word hung in the air, everybody exchanging nervous, pointed glances, no doubt thinking about the shallow graves behind the house. 

“He’ll turn up sooner or later,” Reid growled. “And then…” 

“What are we going to do with her?” 

“Exactly what we planned. Except now, she doesn’t get to have a final meal,” Reid said, shaking his head. 

“Oh, that is too bad. I was going to make fried chicken. You liked my fried chicken, didn’t you dear?” 

Eliza felt a ball of tears in her throat, despair making her cold, but she almost wanted to laugh. She could feel it all bubbling to the surface, a torrent threatening to overtake her. She thought she must be dreaming. How could any of this be real? 

“Dave, go let everybody know we’re coming. Tell them the festivities are starting a bit early this morning. Sean, take care of Brody, will ya?” Reid said, waving vaguely towards the door. “Make sure everybody see what happened to their beloved Sheriff.” 

Sean, a husky man with bright orange hair, nodded. He lifted the dead man by the arms, pulling him over his broad shoulder. “I’ll take him to Bill’s hotel,” he announced. 

“Good. We’ll hold the Wake this afternoon. Rex, lead the way.” 

The rest of the men fell into line behind Rex, stomping out of the house in unison. Reid tied Eliza’s hands behind her back, and shoved her bloody rag in her mouth as a gag. The thick taste of copper made her stomach churn. Elsie flustered around the kitchen, keeping her hands busy with mindless work until her husband announced that it was time to leave. She took one of the remaining guns and fell in step behind them, holding Eliza at gunpoint for a second time. 

How had that crazy old witch escaped? 

Eliza ran through the entire situation in her head. She knew the door was locked when she left it. She wouldn’t have made the mistake of forgetting about it. She also knew that the only way would be the locked window at least fifteen feet above the ground. Elsie couldn’t have jumped, her old bones would have shattered. Plus, the knots around her wrists had been tight and sure. It didn’t make any sense. Was somebody else in the house with them? Somebody Eliza didn’t know about? 

Even if there had been a third party, how would they have got passed her? She could see the front door and the back door from the kitchen. Was there another stairwell she didn’t know about? Some sort of secret passage? Eliza supposed it was possible, but not very probable. She should have shot Elsie when she had the chance—not to kill her, but to cripple her. 

The thought of shooting an old woman made her want to vomit, but then she remembered that old woman was apparently more than willing to shoot her first. What kind of world was she living in? 

When Reid led her out of the house, Eliza blinked rapidly and ducked her head. The sun burned her eyes, the unexpected brightness intensifying her headache. There was already a crowd forming on the street, waiting for a glimpse of the murderess in their midst. Squinting, she sought for a familiar face…any familiar face…but she saw only impassive masks and cold, but curious, eyes. 

“Step away from her!” 

All eyes were drawn up, to the source of the sound. Paul stood on the roof of the saloon, his rifle aimed at Reid’s head. Eliza moaned, afraid for the boy. He shouldn’t have given himself away so quickly. 

“Paul? Is that you?” Reid called. “Come on down from there, Boy!” 

“Let her go. She’s innocent.” 

“She killed Sheriff Brody in front of me! Am I supposed to ignore my own two eyes? Ignore justice? Ignore God’s law?” 

“Release her, or I’ll shoot you,” Paul shouted without hesitation. 

A gun fired from Eliza’s right, one of the mayor’s men not taking any chances. Paul stumbled back from the edge, collapsing on the roof with a shocked groan. Eliza screamed, her nerves snapping. The sight of Paul falling back, blood bursting from his shoulders, awakened a great rage deep in her body. She sprung into action without thinking, kicking and head butting everything that got in her way, heedless of the danger she was putting herself in. Men she couldn’t see howled in pain as she attacked them, spinning around in a wide circle, her head and legs moving wildly. 

The crowd starting whooping and hollering, some encouraging her to keep going, others shouting for the deputies to bring her down. Eliza could barely hear them over the sound of waves crashing in her ears. Everything had faded away, except her targets, her deep pain, and her even deeper panic. She was finally brought under control by a hard punch to the stomach, forcing her to double over and gag for breath. 

“She’s a little spitfire, isn’t she?” Reid shouted, pulling her by her hair until she straightened. “It’s a shame that such a fine young woman with so much spirit has to die.” 

A shout of protest went up from the crowd. “Let us keep her!” “Man, I be she’s a hellcat!” “Just for a few days, Mayor!” “Days? Fuck! Give us a few hours!” 

“Now, now, gentlemen. She’s far too dangerous to keep as a prisoner. I mean, look at what she did to poor Paul, and she was only in his charge for a single night!” 

The crowd laughed, as if it were a great joke. She saw Martha standing on the edge of the still-growing mob, but the other girl wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Come now, clear a path!” Reid shouted, pushing his procession forward. They all marched down the road, Elsie still at her back, Paul still lying lifelessly on the saloon’s roof, until they reached the base of the new structure. 

“Up we go,” Reid said, shoving her towards the stairs. 

She ascended slowly, taking her time for each step. She could feel the weight of a hundred eyes on her back, could hear their quickened breath, could even smell their excited sweat. They were a pack of animals at her back, their most basic urges being gratified by the sight before them. 

“Let us see her!” One man shouted when she finally reached the platform. A roar of approval followed his suggestion, men pushing forward until the gallows actually shook beneath her feet. A change began.  _ Let us see her. Let us see her. _

“Now, now, gentlemen, you have a fine view,” Reid chided playfully. 

“Take off her dress!” 

“Like this?” Reid took a knife from his boot—Eliza cursed herself again when she realized he was armed the entire time—and cut the front of her dress open to the shouted approval of the mob. 

With as much strength as she could muster, she spat the bloody rag from her mouth. As soon as it fell to the ground, somebody picked it up, holding it triumphantly over her head. “I’m going to kill you,” Eliza vowed beneath her breath. The words were for Reid only. 

He laughed. “This kitten’s still got claws!” 

Five men joined them on the structure, one on each corner, and another flanking her. They stood with their arms resting at their sides, their coats pulled back to show off their shining guns. Eliza weighed her options, considering her chances if she tried to run. If they didn’t shoot her, the mob would tear her apart. A part of her hoped that Ford was long gone, that he wouldn’t be there to rescue her. She didn’t deserve it. She had walked right into this…He had trusted her, and she dropped her guard, allowed herself to be distracted. 

“Let me go now, and maybe you’re life will be spared,” Eliza said, making her voice as hard as she could. 

Reid laughed again. “She’s something, isn’t she? I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.” 

“Let us touch her!” 

“ _ No _ ,” Reid said, slashing his hand through the air. “We will maintain law and order, people! You’re not animals!” 

The four men all drew their guns almost simultaneously, an added warning. Eliza didn’t think anybody would actually try to storm the structure, but if they were considering it, the deputies quickly put that idea out of their heads. Reid did offer one concession to the mob’s demands, removing her dress completely. 

Eliza couldn’t cover herself, but even if her hands were free, she wouldn’t have attempted to. She stared down the men who stared at her, locking her shame, embarrassment, and humiliation away in the back of her mind, in a dark corner where she couldn’t access it again, allowing only her anger to remain. The men hooted and hollered—only the whores on the street had the decency to turn away. 

Reid grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the noose. Eliza resolved that she would not scream, would not cry, would not beg for her life. She may not have the chance to escape, or have the strength to fight them off, but she did not have to allow them to take the very last vestiges of her dignity. 

“Without further ado…” Reid’s announcement was cut short by the simultaneous reports of four guns. Eliza looked around, certain that it was the four guards firing into the crowd. As if by one, the four men on the platform fell off the edge to the ground, leaving her alone with Reid and one other deputy. 

“Where did that come from?” Reid bellowed. “Who did that?” 

While everybody was scanning the buildings for the mysterious marksmen, another shot fell the fifth deputy. Reid looked terrified now, drawing his own gun and brandishing it threateningly towards the mob. “Who did that?” 

“I believe you’re looking for me, Mayor.” 

Eliza cried out with relief as Ford stepped onto the platform. Somebody in the crowd fired, a bullet zipping by his head. Without warning, he drew his gun. Fanning his hand across the hammer, he fired six shots into the crowd, and six bodies fell. 

“Try it again,” he warned, drawing his second gun. “There are ten men waiting for my order. They’ll shoot you all down.” 

The mob seemed to believe him. It seemed every man took a step or two back from the platform in unison. Ford aimed his gun at Reid. “Untie her.” 

“Kill him! Kill him! Shoot this man!” Reid cried out. 

Nobody seemed interested in following the mayor’s order. 

“Untie her, now,” Ford repeated. “Or I’ll shoot you right here.” 

Reid narrowed his eyes, stepping behind Eliza. He didn’t touch the knots at her wrist, though, instead yanking the rope over her head. “Me or here, Ford. Your choice.” 

Eliza shook her head, trying to pull away from the rope, but Reid held her down with a meaty hand on her shoulder. She kicked backwards, aiming for his shins, but he sidestepped her blind attack easily. 

“Your fight’s with me. Let her go.” 

“Very well.” Reid pulled the lever that opened the floor beneath her feet. She plunged into space, screaming as her feet lost contact with the solid ground. Several shots rang out—she heard them from a great distance, the rope cutting into her throat. It only pulled taut for the barest moment before the rope snapped, a half a dozen bullets breaking it apart. She hit the ground in a heap, gagging for breath, struggling to loosen her hands so she could free her neck. 

Almost immediately, a sea of men swarmed around her naked body. Another shot cracked in the air, and the man closest to her lost his eye, blood bursting from the empty socket before crumbling to the ground. The other men heeded the warning, backing off again, but she could feel the strain in their bodies. She knew that soon, no amount of threats or warnings could hold them at bay. 

She heard a scuffle above her on the platform, then the distinct sound of a man falling. The platform shook. Looking up through the trap door, she saw Ford’s boots and legs—he must have punched Reid. 

Eliza continued to struggle, backing up and putting as much space between her and the mob as possible. Most of them weren’t interested at all on what was happening on the platform, the full weight of their attention focused on her. She finally freed one hand and yanked the noose over her head as quickly as she could, flinging it away from her. 

“Here.” 

Eliza turned to Martha, crying with relief when she saw the long robe the prostitute held out to her. “Thank you. Thank you.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Martha whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 

Eliza shook her head, pulling the robe on. “Will you do me a favor?” 

“What?” 

“Go the roof of the saloon and find out how Paul is. Maybe…maybe he’s just injured,” Eliza said hopefully. 

“Pass me a rope!” She heard Ford bellow. Eliza left Martha, hurrying back to the stairs of the platform. She climbed them quickly, feeling safer the farther she got from the crowd. Somebody tossed a rope, already tied into a quick noose, up from the crowd into Ford’s waiting hands. 

“Y’all came to see a hanging today,” Ford said, pulling Reid to his feet. “And it would be a shame if you walked away disappointed.” 

Eliza scanned the building, spotting several of the snipers. She resisted the urge to smile and wave, to try to acknowledge and thank them for what they did. Instead, she turned her eyes back to Ford and Reid, knowing that her prediction and warning was about to come to pass, but feeling uneasy…out of place…unattached. She didn’t want to see this. But she couldn’t look away. She hugged herself, chills shaking her body. 

Ford slapped Reid’s face with the back of his hand until the unconscious man woke up, his eyes blinking rapidly. Ford slid the rope over his head, then tossed the end over the beam above their heads. 

“Do you have any final words?” Ford asked. 

“You can burn in hell. You and your whore,” Reid said, his words a bit slurred. 

“I’ll meet you there,” Ford said, but before he could push Reid through the trap door, Elsie barreled up the stairs, her gun drawn. 

“Bernard!” She shouted. “No! You get away from him.” Her wrinkled face was set in a hard mask, her eyes blazing. She leveled her gun at Ford, and Eliza reacted without thinking, tackling the old woman, both of them falling down the flight of stairs. 

Elsie landed on top of Eliza, her gun still in hand, and cocked. Eliza tried to push her away, but Elsie was like a woman possessed. She couldn’t be budged. Her eyes bulged from her head, her tongue hung out of her mouth. 

“You slut,” she hissed, “you dirty slut.” She put the barrel of gun against Eliza’s forehead. “I’m going to destroy your pretty face.” 

“Hey, bitch!” A familiar, unexpected voice. Elsie looked up, Eliza tilted her head backwards, shocked. She didn’t believe her ears, but she had to believe her eyes. “I’ve had enough of you.” 

Paul’s left arm held uselessly at his side, but his right arm was just fine. Elsie lifted her gun from Eliza’s head in defense. Paul fired as soon as she moved, hitting her in the heart. The old woman fell back, taking two final, shallow breaths before hitting the ground. Eliza pushed herself to her feet, hurrying over to Paul, moved by the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. 

“I didn’t want to shoot her,” he said as Eliza wrapped her arm around him. “I didn’t want to shoot her…but she was going to kill you and I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” 

“ _ Elsie _ ,” Reid howled. 

Eliza looked up in time to see Ford push the mayor through his own trap door. He dangled from the rope, his feet kicking in erratic patterns as the rope squeezed the last seconds of breath from his body. Eliza turned away, emptying her stomach on the ground at her feet, dry heaving when there was nothing left. 

“Are you going to be OK?” Paul asked, patting her back. 

Eliza nodded, but she couldn’t stop her body from heaving. Silent tears streamed down her face. The next person to touch her was Ford. She recognized the weight of his hand against her arm, the smell of him, the sound of his breath. She turned into him, burying her head against her shoulder, gasping for breath. 

Eliza could faintly hear the crowd dispersing, dozens of feet shuffling away, back to their mines, back to their work. She didn’t look up. She just hugged Ford close to her, willing him to read her mind, to understand how sorry she was, how thankful she was to him. She could feel Paul’s hand on her back, and understood he needed the comfort of close contact as much as she did. 

Ford stroked her hair, resting his lips on the top of her head, patiently waiting for her to calm down. When she could finally breath without a great effort, she looked up and noticed that their group had formed a loose circle around them. 

“Thank you,” she said, trying to smile. 

They all nodded, their faces closed and serious. 

Eliza avoided looking at Ford, afraid that if she saw his face she would cry again. Instead, she looked to Paul. “Are you going to be OK? I thought we lost you.” 

He smiled, pointing to his shoulder. “He got me right here, the bullet passing clean through. I don’t know if it’ll ever be much use to me again, but I don’t think I’m going to die.” 

“You should have a doctor look at that,” she muttered, the words coming with a great deal of difficulty. 

Eliza looked around, noticing a handful of bodies littering the street. “What are we going to do about these…people…?” 

“We’ll take care of them,” Frank said. 

“I better get her inside, where’s it safe,” Ford said, putting his arm around her shoulder. 

She allowed him to guide her to the hotel…the same hotel they stayed the first night in town. When they stepped into the lobby, Eliza stopped short, certain she had gone crazy. 

“Ford? Do you see what I see?” Eliza whispered, pointing to the counter. Maybe the blows to her head had given her more than just a bloody nose and a black eye. 

Ford nodded. “G’morning, Bill.” 

Bill stood behind the counter with a bandage around his head, but otherwise fine. Eliza gaped. “You’re not even dead?” She shouted. “I was found guilty for a murder that  _ never happened _ ?” 

“Reid lied. Are you surprised?” Ford murmured. 

“You’re not even dead!” 

Bill tried to smile, but she could tell he wasn’t any happier seeing her than she was for seeing him. “Would you like me to show you to your room?” 

“We’ll find our way,” Ford said. 

“The bastard isn’t even dead. I knew I didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him,” Eliza muttered, glaring at him over her shoulder. “What are we doing?” 

“You need to rest, and maybe bathe, while I see if I can find you some clothes,” Ford explained. 

“We can’t stay here!” 

“Why not?” 

“We just killed the mayor in the middle of town,” Eliza said between gritted teeth. 

“Nobody is going to hurt you now. You need to rest, Eliza. You had a serious shock.” 

“I’m fine now.” 

Ford took her by the shoulders. “I swear, I’m never going to put you through this again.” 

Eliza’s breath caught. “I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry, it was all my fault. I…I…” She couldn’t look at him anymore, afraid to see disappointment or anger on his face. She knew that would hurt more than any punch to the face. 

“Hey…hey…” Ford gripped her chin and turned her head to face him, but she averted her eyes. “Why won’t you look at me?” 

“I…I can’t,” she whispered. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Could you just…I need to be alone…I need to be by myself for a little while,” she said, pulling away from him, still not meeting his eyes. 

“If that’s what you want…” 

“It is.” 

“Fine. I’ll bring you back some clothes.” 

“Thank you,” she said, turning her back to him. 

She expected him to slam the door, but the gentle click was somehow worse. Eliza held the bedpan up to her face, certain she was about to puke again. Her body shook and trembled. She shivered, feeling impossibly cold. 


	13. Chapter 13

Eliza missed Ford the moment he left, but she still couldn’t look at him when he returned, staggering under the weight of dresses and a wide variety of toiletries. She smiled as he dumped his treasures on the bed, already welcoming the sensation of real soap and perfume against her skin. 

Ford stayed in the room, supervising as a couple of boys filled the tub with hot water. He directed them to bring food and drink up to the room as soon as possible, adding that he also wanted a schedule for the coach. 

“Book us on the one leaving tomorrow, if there’s still room,” he added, placing a silver coin in one of the boy’s hands. “Hurry, now.” 

When he turned to face her, she looked down again. 

“Thank you, for all of this.” 

“Most of it was…what’s her name…Martha’s doing. She said she felt awful about what happened. You’re welcome to keep all of this.” 

Eliza inspected the fine items, trailing her fingers along the soft silk, maroon dress. “Oh, I couldn’t.” 

“She insisted.” 

“I will have to thank her for her generosity.” 

“I think the whole town is ready to shower us with gifts,” Ford told her. 

“Oh?” 

“Apparently, nobody really liked Mayor Reid.” 

“Probably relieved they won’t be dragged behind the bar and shot,” Eliza noted. 

“Most likely.” 

“Well…if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my bath now,” she said, moving towards the tub. 

“I thought I’d stay and help,” Ford said, shutting the door. 

“No,” Eliza said quickly, glancing at him in time to see a shadow of pain cross his face. “I mean…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound…” 

“What’s wrong? Is it that kid?” 

Eliza blinked. “What? Who?” 

“Paul. Because if it’s something to do with him, just say something now. I’m not going to let you jerk me around…” 

“No, no, no, it’s not…it has nothing to do with Paul. He’s my friend. That’s it,” Eliza quickly assured him. 

“Then what’s the problem? Do you need something? Tell me so I can help you,” Ford said, crossing the room to her. 

“No, I don’t need anything. I just…” Eliza shook her head, finding it impossible to explain. How could she tell him that she couldn’t stand to see him because she loved him too much? How could she explain her shame? She almost got herself killed, Paul killed, and every single man who agreed to help them. The men who had been so brave in helping her out of a fix she should have never been in. 

Ford took her by the arms. “Eliza…please.” 

“I messed everything up, Ford. I ruined everything.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Oh, please. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I remember our plan, and at no point was I supposed to be taken prisoner. The plan didn’t involve the gallows…or me being stripped in front of the entire town. It didn’t include Paul getting shot at. And you should have never been in danger. We all could have  _ died _ because of me. You could have died because of me. I can’t…I can’t…live with that…” Eliza turned to the window, weary. Her shoulders slumped. 

She felt him step behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders, but didn’t try to spin her to face him. “Eliza, we all knew it was dangerous.” 

“But the plan wasn’t dangerous…not the one you made…” She whispered. 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” 

Eliza took a deep breath, then explained how the entire situation went down, from when she stepped into the kitchen until he stepped onto the platform. As she spoke, his fingers tightened on her shoulders, and her heart sunk. She knew he was angry. She could sense it. She tensed, bracing herself. He had never shouted at her before, but then, she had never ruined everything before. 

“Eliza, I want you to listen to me,” he said slowly. “Are you paying attention?” 

She tensed, nodding. She tasted fresh blood in her mouth as she bit her lip. 

“You did everything as you were told. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine. I should have prepared you better, or done it myself.” 

“But…” 

“You are a level-headed, sensible person, Eliza. I don’t know why you’re being so dense right now.” He did spin her now, holding her chin and forcing her to look at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have done anything differently. I should have been covering the house.  _ Me _ . It wasn’t your responsibility to account for every deputy’s place, Eliza. You couldn’t have known. I should be down on my knees begging your forgiveness.” 

Eliza shook her head, but he dropped to his knees in front of her anyway. “Can you forgive me for endangering your life? For nearly losing you? Because I don’t know if I can forgive myself.” 

“Stand up,” she said, tugging on his arm. “Stand up, please, Ford. Don’t do this.” 

“Tell me you forgive me,” he said, not moving. 

“I forgive you. I don’t blame you. Please, stand up.” 

Ford did, wrapping his arms around her. “Oh, Eliza, sweetheart, don’t ever be afraid of me. I love you, why would you be afraid of me?” 

“You love me?” 

“Of course, I do. I loved you since the day I met you. Didn’t you know?” 

Eliza shook her head. “No…No…I’ve only loved you since last night…” 

She could hear the smile in his voice. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” 

“I mean, I just realized it last night.” Eliza laughed, feeling relieved and a little stupid. “I still want to know how that crazy old bat got out of that room. The window was sealed shut…even if the fall wouldn’t kill her.” 

“Why don’t we get cleaned up, then we’ll go investigate,” Ford said. “I’m curious myself. Now, if you’ll allow me…” 

Ford pulled her robe open, and Eliza suppressed a shudder. She wasn’t uncomfortable in front of him, but she didn’t just feel his eyes—she could still feel hundreds of hungry gazes like fingers crawl across her skin. 

“Are you all right?” He asked. Eliza realized her discomfort must have shown on her face. 

“I…yeah.” 

“If you’re still uncomfortable, I can go,” he said. 

“No, it’s not you. It’s just…” She touched the red mark on her neck. The rope burn wouldn’t fade anytime soon. Swallowing, she realized her entire throat hurt. “I can still see them. I can still hear them…” 

Ford curled his hands at his side, anger clouding his face. “I should have been there sooner.” 

Eliza tried to laugh. “Let’s stop blaming ourselves, ok? Can we both agree to that?” 

Ford nodded. “But do you need me to get a doctor for you?” 

“No…I don’t want you to leave.” The thought of being alone had a sudden quality of real terror. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need a doctor. I’m just a little sore, is all.” 

“The bath will make you feel better,” Ford promised, pushing the robe off her shoulders. His eyes flickered over her body momentarily, but didn’t linger. She glanced at herself in the mirror—jerking back with horror. 

“Oh my God,” she breathed. 

Ford stood behind her, both of them examining her reflection. A noose still hung around her neck, the bruise deeply purple, almost black. Her nose was caked with dry blood and swollen, though she realized that it didn’t really hurt. Her eye was swollen as well, and as purple as her neck. A cut on the corner of her lip still trickled blood. 

“Oh my God.” 

Ford pulled the pins from her hair, allowing her braid to fall down her back. With quick fingers, he freed her tresses, leaving them to hang around her shoulders in a brown curtain. She shook her head, enjoying the soft sensation against her bare back, but she couldn’t be distracted from the bruises, welts, and marks that covered her body. She didn’t even remember receiving most of those—she only had a clear memory of the two hits to the face. 

“I’m such a mess. I had…no idea…” 

Ford nodded. She looked at his face in the mirror, noting the pain reflected there. He skimmed her body with gentle fingers, barely a whisper of movement against her skin, caressing her like she might shatter from his touch. “Come on,” he murmured, directing her to the standing tub. 

Eliza eased into the hot water, her entire body protesting but also grateful. As the liquid lapped against her flesh, she could feel each bruise and injury, but they only ached for a moment before the heat soothed them. 

Ford pulled a small, three-legged stool to the head of the tub, sitting directly behind her. 

“What are you doing back there?” She asked. “I thought you were going to join me.” 

“Well, I figured I owed you one…” 

Eliza laughed, the sound more natural now. “What are you going to do? Shave me?” 

“I thought I’d wash your hair,” he told her. “Now hold still.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Ford dipped a mug into the water at her side, then poured the contents slowly over her head. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth as it cascaded down her sore face. He repeated the act several times, until her hair was completely wet. She heard him unscrew the top of a bottle of shampoo, the sweet arrangement of floral and spices immediately assaulting her nose. 

“Go easy with that,” Eliza warned. “It’s strong.” 

“I think it smells nice,” Ford murmured, pouring a large dollop on the crown of her head. 

Eliza relaxed under his gentle fingers, surprised and pleased by the way he massaged her scalp, careful not to let his knuckles get tangled in her long hair. He was also careful to avoid tugging the large knots in her hair, working through them with delicate patience.

Eliza forgot the physical pain and the emotional anguish of the day, allowing it all to flow out of her body as he continue to clean and caress her. She could feel the tension draining from her muscles, seeping into the hot water that surrounded her like a cocoon. Ford seemed to pull the memories from her head with his clever fingers, replacing the bitter images with nothing but soft warmth. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the way he touched her, the way he sounded, until he was the only thing she knew. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” he warned, as he began scooping water again. She squeezed them shut as bubbles fell down her face, tickling her sensitive skin. “How does that feel?” 

“Very nice,” she murmured. 

“Is the rest of this for your hair too?” Ford asked. 

Amused by his confusion, she opened her eyes. “Let me see.” 

He flashed several bottles in front of her face, most of them unlabeled, nearly all of them looking decadently expensive. She pointed to a pink, glass bottle with what appeared to be a gold cap. “Use that now. Just rub it in.” 

The lotion felt cool against her head, but not uncomfortably so. It smelled of roses. Eliza thought the combined aromas of both products would make her choke, but she was pleasantly surprised to find them very complimentary. She couldn’t remember the last time she smelled anything so delicious, or the last time she felt something so good against her skin. 

“What does this do?” Ford asked. 

“It makes the hair soft.” 

“Your hair is already soft.” 

Eliza smiled. “Softer. Have you ever done this before?” 

“Never. Should I rinse it now?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Eliza leaned forward, letting the water fall down her back. He combed his fingers through his hair with each wash of water, pulling the small tangles and knots out as he went. Eliza felt like she could melt into the warm water, like butter melting in a hot skillet. If he continued these unexpected ministrations, she wouldn’t even be able to speak. When he was finished, he draped her long hair over the back of the tub, not allowing it to fall back into the water. She opened her eyes, realizing why. 

“This is filthy,” she said with a grimace. “Ugh.” 

“I guess it was all that sand in your hair. No, don’t get out. I’m not finished yet.” 

“Oh?” Eliza relaxed against the back of the tub. “What’s next?” 

Ford moved his stool to the side of the tub, gripping a scented bar of soap in one hand and a soft rag in the other. He lathered the soap on the rag until it was covered in bubbles. “I’m going to wash your face. I’ll try not to hurt you.” 

Eliza touched her upper-lip with her tongue, tasting the dried blood flaking on her skin. “OK.” 

“If I hurt you, let me know.” 

Eliza nodded. 

Ford leaned forward, touching her unmarred cheek with the corner of the cloth. Moving in widening circles, he inched towards her nose, cleaning around it with out actually touching the bruised skin. Eliza trusted him to be careful, but she stiffened as he worked his way to the other side of her face. She knew that only her eyes was blackened, but the throbbing reached as far as the bottom of her jaw. 

“How are you doing?” He muttered. 

“Fine.” 

“Who did this to you?” 

“Reid and one of the men you shot.” 

“Good.” 

Ford swished the cloth in the water, rinsing it, before going over her face one more time. Despite his caution, the pain in her nose roared, spreading through her face and head. “Oh…ow…” She moaned, the throbbing ache intensifying with each heartbeat. 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. We’re almost done.” 

Eliza couldn’t help but marvel at the gentle, thoughtful man in front of her. She had seen his mild side before, though she knew it was well-hidden from the rest of the world, but it still surprised her. How could she reconcile the image of him throwing the hangman’s rope over the beam with the image of him kneeling beside her, pained concern on his face? The same hands that shot to kill, moving faster than striking snakes, could caress and massage with infinite tenderness. Nobody would believe her if she told them, but then, she could barely believe it herself and she lived it. 

Ford, aware of her growing discomfort, washed the rest of her body quickly, covering her with soap, scrubbing her skin, as if he was trying to remove more than dirt and sweat. She wished he could wash away the dirty memories of leering eyes, but the only time could take care of that filth. 

“OK,” he said, offering his hand, “let me help you up.” 

Ford pulled her to her feet, reaching for the nearby towel with his other hand. He wrapped it around her shoulders before lifting her out of the tub and carrying her over to the bed. He laid her above the blankets, whispering soft assurances. He reached for yet another bottle, but she could tell this wasn’t soap or perfume. 

“It’s a balm. For your bruises,” he explained. “They say it’ll help you heal.” 

Eliza nodded, happy to accept anything that would make the disgusting mark on her neck fade into oblivion. She wouldn’t even be able to look at herself in the mirror without getting sick until it was gone. 

The balm was sharply cold after the hot bath, but Eliza didn’t mind. As he massaged it into her skin, she realized that it left her numb. Eliza sighed, grateful for the soft numbness that dulled the roar, killed the throbbing. 

“It is working,” she murmured. 

“Good. Almost done. Does your throat hurt when you talk?” 

Eliza shook her head. “Well, a little.” 

“Maybe I can find some tea for you.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Eliza said, lifting her chin so he could smooth the cool balm over her throat. 

“That should do it,” he announced, putting the bottle on the bedside table. “We’ll use that twice a day. Now, for your head…” He produced a small brown bottle from his shirt pocket. “Laudanum.” He poured water from the pitcher into a mug, letting three drops of the brown liquid color the clear water. 

Eliza accepted the mug, smiling as he watched her drink it. “This is going to make me sleepy.” 

“You deserve it.” Ford stood up, stripping his filthy clothes from his body. “Do you mind if I scrub myself down real quick?” 

Eliza shook her head, watching him with drooping eyes as he stepped into the cooling tub. She didn’t want to look away, but she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. She allowed them to fall, but didn’t drift off to sleep completely. She didn’t want to lose contact with Ford, so she forced herself to remain conscious, listening to him splash in the water. 

It didn’t take him long to wash and dry himself, though Eliza had completely lost her sense of time. It could have been mere minutes, or it could have been an hour. It all felt the same to her exhausted, drugged brain. She was really only aware of the sounds he made in a distant way, like she was listening to him from a mile away. 

When he finally curled against her in bed, wrapping his arms around her, she sighed with relief and untethered her mind, allowing it to float like a kite high above the Earth.  

#

Eliza slept through the afternoon and into the night without stirring. She awoke the next morning with the sun, Ford’s dark irises the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. He smiled when he saw her pull away from sleep, pulling away from her. “I thought you’d never wake up.” 

Eliza touched her temple tentatively. “How long was I out?” 

“About eighteen hours.” 

She frowned. “You should have woke me…” 

“Why? You were fine. But, you will have to get out of bed now,” Ford informed her. 

“Why?” 

“The coach is leaving in an hour.” 

Eliza jumped to her feet, unmindful of her head. “You mean it? We’re finally getting out of here?” 

“Yes. So you better get dressed.” 

Eliza nodded. She didn’t need to be told twice. She hurried around the room, applying the balm at Ford’s insistence before taking advantage of the perfumes and lotions. She felt like a queen as she pulled on a fresh, crisp lawn traveling dress. Her hair shined like copper in the early sunlight, feeling warm, clean, and heavy against her back. She left it down, hoping that it would at least partially obscure the bruise on her neck. 

Ford was more sedate as he dressed, pulling on pants and a shirt that she didn’t recognize. He watched her hurried, excited motions with an amused grin, waiting until she was completely dressed to compliment her on her beauty. 

Eliza frowned. “I still look like a fright.” 

“Not at all.” 

“Do we have time to go to the mayor’s house?” 

Ford nodded. “If you’re ready to leave right now.” 

She quickly packed the various gifts of bottles and clothes, still feeling mildly guilty for taking such beautiful items. 

“Do you want to have something eat?” Ford asked as they left the room. 

“No.” 

“You might regret that later.” 

“I want to get out of here.” 

Ford nodded, taking her elbow and escorting her down the hallway. Bill was standing in his usual spot behind the counter, but Eliza ignored him. Ford nodded cordially, but he didn’t stop to pay for the room. Bill didn’t try to stop them from exiting, watching silently as they passed through the door. 

Eliza noticed that the town was like a different place, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why or how as they walked down Main Street. She noticed that the gallows had already been torn down, the lumber carted away out of sight. The street was clear of bodies, and the evidence of death. A few men milled around, but they either ignored the two of them, or politely tipped their hats. There were no sneers, no knowing glances. Eliza thought even the air tasted fresher. 

When they reached the mayor’s house, Eliza was surprised to see Paul sitting on the steps, casually sipping from a cup of coffee, his arm in an home-made sling. He lifted his mug, smiling as they approached. 

“I hoped to see you before you left.” 

“We came to see how Elsie escaped,” Eliza explained. 

“Oh. That.” Paul stood up, nodding towards the side of the house. “I’ll show you.” 

They followed the young man around the corner, unsure of what to expect. A tall, wooden ladder was propped against the side of the house, the top just below a broken window. “That’s the window of the master bedroom,” Paul explained. “Somebody must have seen her from the street, bound and gagged as she was, and broke through the bedroom window.” 

“Then unlocked the door and she waltzed right out,” Eliza said. 

Paul nodded. “Yep.” 

“I guess I didn’t hear the glass breaking because, well, I was a little deaf from the gunshots. Still…” 

“You said you hoped to see us before we left,” Ford said, addressing Paul. “Does this mean you don’t plan to come with us?” 

Paul shifted his eyes from Eliza to Ford. “It was mighty kind of you to offer. And I…well…” He looked at Eliza again, his eyes speaking volumes. “But they’re going to need a new mayor here. And a new sheriff.” 

Eliza nodded. “Which one are you?” 

“Frank’s already wearing Brody’s badge, so I guess I’m the mayor now.” Paul smiled, his lips crooked. “How hard can it be?” 

“Indeed,” Ford said. 

The smile faded from Paul’s face, a troubled frown replacing it. “I guess I might as well show you guys the rest. Come on.” 

They followed him behind the house, taking a winding trail for about a hundred yards before stopping. Paul pointed in front of him. “See that?” 

Ford nodded, looking troubled. 

“What? I don’t see anything,” Eliza said. 

“Look,” Ford said, directing her gaze with his finger. “Do you see those mounds? They’re just slight bulges.” 

Eliza nodded, “I do.” 

“They’re the graves.” 

She gasped. There must have been two dozen, maybe more, of the bulges. “How could he have done this?” 

Paul shook his head. “I think my first act as mayor will be to give these men a proper burial with marked graves.” 

“That’s the least they deserve,” Ford agreed. 

They all paused, lost in their own thoughts. Eliza wished she could have heard a confession out of Bernard Reid, or at the very least, an explanation. She knew enough of the story to piece together an overall picture of the events, but she wished she understood all the details. She supposed it all came down to power and money. That’s all he cared about, and the silver of the dead men’s mines lined his pockets, until he got caught in his own vicious game. 

“You’ll make a great mayor,” Eliza finally said, breaking the silence. 

“Thank you. Would you mind if I escorted you to the livery?” Paul asked. 

Ford nodded. Eliza tucked her arm in his. “Lead the way.” 

“Oh,” Paul gasped, as he noticed the bruise on her neck for the first time. “Oh, god. I wish I could have saved you from that.” 

“You did save me,” Eliza reminded him. 

Paul shook his head. “She was always such a sweet woman. I don’t understand what happened.” 

“Maybe her sweetness was an act,” Eliza suggested. “Maybe it was just a mask she wore to cover a darker secret.” Even as she spoke, she felt a little ill. Elsie Reid had been capable of murder, but how many men had Eliza killed? She didn’t blink or hesitate when it came to tying Elsie up, or killing the Sheriff, or threatening Reid. Did she harbor a dark heart herself? Did her face mask something evil? 

Eliza shook her head. She couldn’t dwell on thoughts like that. They would make her crazy. She considered herself a good question, and she knew her days of shooting-to-kill were behind her. She didn’t want to live that sort of life. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to sleep at night with a clear conscience. 

“Maybe. But it was like…like…killing my own grandma.” 

Eliza looked over Paul’s head to meet Ford’s eyes. “Well, you know I’m grateful that you had the courage to do it.” 

“Me too,” Ford said, gruffly. 

“Ford! Miss Eliza!” 

The three of them turned to see Frank approach, his new badge glittering in the sun. “I was worried you were already gone.” 

Ford shook his head. “We’re on our way, though.” 

Frank took Ford’s hand, shaking it fervently. “I wanted to thank you. Nobody else had the nerve to stand up against Reid. I guess we were all just waiting for somebody to show us how.” He looked at Eliza. “Though, I admit, we’re a bit shamed that a woman had to do it.” 

Eliza shook her head. “He thought he could push me around.” She rubbed her sore throat. “Maybe he was right.” 

Frank shook his head. “The coach is ready for you, by the way. We packed it up with supplies for California.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ford said. 

“Consider it a thank you. Besides, with Reid out of the way, we’re going to be rich.” 

“I guess so.” 

They began walking again, the three men flanking Eliza as they moved towards the livery. As Frank had promised, a stagecoach stood waiting, the top piled high with boxes and bags. Eliza looked around, expecting to see other passengers, but they were the only ones there. 

“Is this all for us?” She asked, her eyes wide. 

“Of course.” 

Ford, not one for long goodbyes, merely touched the brim of his hat before stepping into the coach. Eliza wrapped her arms around Paul in a friendly hug, kissing his cheek before releasing him. “Keep yourself safe, yeah?” 

“I will.” 

Eliza stepped away from him, turning her attention to Frank. She offered her hand. Frank hesitated for a minute before taking it, shaking politely. “Thank you again.” 

“Be careful,” he warned, “there are bandits between here and Silver City.” 

“Are you kidding?” Paul asked. “Nobody will fuck around with these two now. I bet word has already spread.” 

Eliza laughed. “I hope you’re right.” 

“Ready Miss?” The driver asked from his high seat. 

“I guess they’re waiting for me. Can’t say I’m sorry to leave this place behind,” Eliza said. 

“Does that mean you won’t be back?” 

Eliza paused, considering his question. “Maybe. Someday. A long time from now.” 

“I’ll look forward to it.” 

Eliza waved once more before joining Ford in the coach. She didn’t look out the window as the driver tapped the horses into motion, and she didn’t watch the town slip away behind her. 


	14. Chapter 14

Eliza didn’t relax until they reached Santa Fe, convinced they could be attacked at any moment. Ford seemed much more subdued, but she could tell that he, too, never stopped waiting for an attack. Even on the train to Santa Fe, she found it impossible to sleep. She remained ramrod straight in her chair, watching every person that walked down the aisle with a critical eye. A few people tried to draw her into a friendly conversation, but she avoided speaking as much as possible, leaving Ford to explain that his wife didn’t feel well. 

“Eliza,” Ford said, as they disembarked, “would you mind staying in Santa Fe a night longer than planned?” 

Eliza looked around the bustling city, absorbing the lively, yet detached, atmosphere. “You don’t have any enemies here, do you?” 

“Not that I know of.” 

“Then I guess an extra night wouldn’t hurt.” 

Eliza was eager to drag him into a hotel room. She spent the long train ride practically sitting on his lap, as they smashed more bodies into the cars then could comfortably be held. It was torture. She could feel him against her thigh, hard from the contact, but unable to do anything about it. She would have agreed to spending an extra week in Santa Fe if it meant she could have him all to herself in a quiet room. Eliza never thought she’d miss the desert, but the cramped, stinky quarters of the train showed her how could they had it when it was just the two of them, the horses, and fresh air. 

To her disappointment, he only went as far as the hallway. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have some gold to claim, remember?” 

Eliza sighed. “Can’t you do that later?” 

“No.” 

“Fine.” 

“Come on, Eliza. I won’t be gone long. Don’t be mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” she grumbled. “I’m just tired.” 

Both statements were alive. She was mad, she wasn’t tired, and she felt like she could crawl out of her skin. He left her without another word, offering no other solution but to stew in her own juices until he returned. When he returned over an hour later, her anger had choked her, making it impossible to speak to him.  

“I bought something for you,” he said, handing her a box with the same casualness he used when passing her boots. 

“What?” 

“Open it.” 

Eliza sighed, accepting it grudgingly. She unwrapped the ribbon, tearing the cheap paper away from the box. She lifted the lid, blinking, unsure of what she was looking at. “What is this?” 

“What does it look like?” Ford asked, his face impassive. 

“It looks like a ring…” She lifted the slim, silver band from the box, holding it in one hand as she pulled out the paper that lined the bottom of the box. “And a marriage license.” 

“I thought you might like to be married before we reach California.” 

Tears stung her eyes. “Oh.” 

“Father Hernadez will be expecting us tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh.” 

Ford watched her, as if expecting her to say something else, but she didn’t know what to say. She had never thought that she’d be taking another man’s name. Even their plan had seemed more like a fantasy, but Ford had never been talking about castles in the sky. She understood now that he had meant business from the beginning, and it was only her hesitation and doubts that might have held them back. 

“The ring’s beautiful,” she whispered, sliding the band over her finger. 

“Does it fit?” 

Eliza nodded. “Perfectly. I’ll…I’ll wear the silk dress Martha gave me.” 

Ford nodded. “I thought I’d sleep in another room tonight.” 

Eliza gaped. “Are you serious?” For a brief moment, she felt like she didn’t even know the man standing in front of her. Why would he care about something like that? It didn’t make sense. 

“Yes.” 

“This is our first night together, alone, in over a week.” 

“I know. I…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck. “I want tomorrow to be special.” 

“Tomorrow will be special,” Eliza said desperately. “I mean, a person doesn’t get married every day, right?” 

“I just feel it’s the right thing to do.” 

“The right thing to do?” Eliza shook her head. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” 

Ford shrugged. “I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll meet you at the church at nine.” 

“You’re serious about this,” Eliza said dully. “What am I supposed to do?” 

“It’s not going to kill you,” Ford pointed out. 

Eliza thought it might, but she knew that arguing with him wouldn’t do any good. She could only nod, watching mutely as he gathered up his few belongings and left the room. Eliza sank on the bed, studying the ring on her finger. It was just a simple silver band, no diamond or other precious stone. That was fine with Eliza. She didn’t really expect to get a ring at all, she wasn’t about to be picky about it. 

Her other ring had been lost in the fire. Everything of Jake’s had been lost in that fire. She didn’t have anything to remember him by…

Eliza’s eyes widened as she understood what Ford had meant. He wasn’t trying to torment her—that was just an annoying by-product—but rather, give her space and time. Did she need it before making a life-long commitment? Eliza realized she had barely thought of Jake at all. Was there unfinished business there? 

Eliza crossed the room to the window, watching the bustling street beneath her. Men and women in fine clothes hurried by, horses navigated the thick crowds, and the church bells rang across the city, calling its flock home. She had been in Santa Fe once before. Jake had met her at the station, his great smile splitting his face. She had never seen a man look so happy. 

What would he think of her now? What would he say if he could talk to her one more time? She tried to imagine his words, but nothing came to her. He had loved her, she was sure of that. He had loved her, and he would have wanted her to be happy. Ford made her happy. 

Eliza closed her eyes, imagining the house they’d build together. It would be somewhere lush, somewhere green and fresh. She never wanted to see the desert again. She wanted to be surrounded by sweet-smelling pines, by tall, healthy grass, by racing rivers and deep lakes. Ford had told her that she could have all of that and more. Eliza believed him. 

The sun was just below the horizon, splashing red and orange light all over the gray sky. She estimated that she had about another twelve hours before she was to be wed for the second, and hopefully final, time. Excitement curled in her stomach, but she was distracted by a reflection of herself in the glass. Her eye, nose, and lips were still swollen and discolored, her neck various shades of purple and green. 

She was going to look like a monster on her own wedding day. Sighing, she pulled the balm out of her traveling bag and applied it liberally to her bruises, wishing it would camouflage as well as heal. 

Eliza crawled into bed alone, relieved that it was the final night she’d spend by herself. 

#

Eliza felt like everybody in the dining hall and lobby was looking at her as she descended the stairs, but she knew they probably didn’t even notice her. She thought they should not only notice her, but bow before her as well. She felt like a queen, gliding down the stairs in soft slippers and rich silk.

She inhaled deeply as she stepped out of the hotel, feeling her head with the heady smell of sunshine, coffee, and leather. She practically danced down the streets, her feet stepping lightly over the wood planks of the sidewalk. As she approached, the bells above the chapel began to chime, one glorious peal for each hour of the morning. Eliza reached the large double doors on the ninth chime, pulling them open just enough to slip inside. 

The church was a shock to her senses—dark, quiet, and smelling of candle wax. She stood in the doorway, blinking, waiting for her body to adjust to the surprisingly cool air inside the squat building. Gradually, her eyes adjusted, allowing her to make out two figures standing at the front of the church by the alter. 

Eliza smiled, lifting her skirts to hurry up the aisle. Ford had apparently bought new pants and a new shirt for the occasion. His hat was notably absent, and he kept running his hands through his sandy hair, fidgeting with his buckle with his other hand. Eliza thought he might actually be nervous—the man who didn’t blink when a gun was pointed at his head was as nervous as a fresh colt. 

“Thought maybe you wouldn’t make it,” Ford greeted. 

“I was here at the strike of nine,” she said. “What do you think?” 

“I think you look beautiful. Eliza, this is Father Hernandez. Father, this is Eliza Quinn.” 

The priest bowed his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I honestly thought there wasn’t a woman alive who could tame this young man.” 

Eliza smiled.  _ Young man? _ She supposed everybody seemed young when you reach a certain age. She couldn’t gauge Hernandez’s exact age, but she thought he was eighty if he was a day. “So you know Ford?” 

“Oh yes, oh yes. I’ve known him for many years. He saved my life once.” 

Eliza arched her eyebrow. “Really?” 

“I think that story can wait for another time,” Ford cut in, cupping her elbow. 

“What? Oh, right, of course. How foolish of me. I remember what it’s like to be young. I’m sure you two are eager to get on with the ceremony.” 

Ford nodded. 

“Sister Mary Francis and Sister Mary Agnes will act as witnesses…” 

The entire ceremony passed in a blur. She repeated the words on command, went through the motions of the ritual, but she didn’t remember a single act. She was too caught up in the way Ford look, the way he smelled, the way his hair looked almost like gold in the candle-light, the missing button on his collar that exposed a small patch of bronze skin, just the right size for her lips. She didn’t come to herself until Father Hernandez announced them husband and wife, and Ford swept her up in his arms. 

The kissed was necessarily restrained, both of them holding themselves back. It wouldn’t do any good to lose control right there on the altar.  

“Your last name’s Cooper?” Eliza asked breathlessly once the released her. 

“Yours too.” 

She smiled. “Eliza Cooper. I guess that’s not too bad.” 

Ford shook the priest’s hand. “Thank you, Father.” 

“Am I to assume that this is the last we’ll see of you in these parts?” Hernandez asked. 

“Our paths might cross again.” 

“I’ll look forward to it.” 

Ford folded Eliza’s hand in his, and half-led, half-dragged her to the door. She waved at the trio over her shoulder before gathering up her skirts so she could keep up with his long, hurried stride.

“That was nice,” he commented once they reached the bright, dusty road. 

Eliza nodded. “I don’t remember a word.” 

“Me neither.” 

They grinned at each other before Ford pulled her across the street. He wasn’t shy about pushing people out of his way as they neared their ultimate destination. Eliza tried to smile apologetically at the people he shoved, but before she could even make eye contact with them, Ford was pulling her forward. 

“If you didn’t have any enemies before, you do now,” Eliza laughed as they finally reached the hotel’s double-doors. 

“They were in my way.” 

“I suppose they’re lucky you didn’t shoot them,” Eliza joked. 

Ford didn’t smile. “Damn right.”

He surprised her by literally sweeping her off her feet once they were inside the building, carrying her up the stairs, taking two at the time. Eliza couldn’t stop laughing. “I could have walked.” 

“My way is faster.” 

“Why are you so impatient, Mr. Cooper?” 

Again, there wasn’t a trace of humor on his face. “I want to get you to myself.” 

Ford was forced to return her feet to the ground once he reached her door so she could unlock it. He took the key from her slick fingers when she missed the keyhole twice, sliding it in himself with ease. He threw the door open, shoved her into the room, and slammed it shut. 

They stood in the center of the room, staring at each other for several long seconds before moving simultaneously, each reaching for the other. Ford spun her around, pushing her into the wall as he covered her mouth with his, searing her lips with desperate intensity.  Eliza clung to him, trying to tell him with her lips and tongue how much she missed him, how much she wanted him. 

Eliza’s instantly responded to his touch, a red and golden flare shooting through her entire body. Heat pooled between her legs, her flesh throbbing and wet, her lower stomach aching, her thighs quivering. The dress that had seemed so special that morning now acted as a special sort of torture, a prison keeping her from the release she needed. 

“Get this off of me,” she gasped, tugging at the sleeves. “Off. Now.” 

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he said. 

“I don’t care. I can fix it.  _ Please _ .” 

Smiling, Ford tugged at the buttons, pulling them free. In seconds, the dress was a forgotten heat at her feet, and his hand was buried between her thighs, his fingers already working to alleviate the sweet agony filling her. She moaned, struggling to make her own fingers cooperate as they struggled with his pants. 

“Help me out here,” she said, tugging helplessly on his fly. 

He slid his finger inside her hot folds. “I’m busy.” 

“Oh, God,” she whimpered, “You’re killing me.” Her fingers were slick with sweat, numb, and useless.  

“You can do it,” he grunted. 

Eliza’s knees buckled as he curled his finger inside of her, brushing against the wonderfully sensitive spot that she didn’t even know existed until he found it. It took her breath away, but the sensation just reminded her of what she really wanted. Him. Deep inside of her. With renewed concentration, she attacked his pants again, finally forcing the buttons free. 

“Come on, come on,” Eliza panted. 

Ford pulled his hand away from her then lifted her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding her breath as he finally thrust into her. They were both too greedy to move with any sort of hesitation or care. He pushed into her with his entire body, his thigh and back muscles tensing beneath her. She moaned with delight as he pounded into her, focused entirely on the way pleasure fanned through her body, the way bliss clouded her brain, the way his harsh breathing matched hers. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place beneath the force of his attack. 

Their mouths met, moved apart, opened and closed, strained for the sweet taste of hot flesh and sweat. Each time he kissed her, butterflies erupted in her stomach and swarmed her chest, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe. She gasped every time he moved away, when his lips fell on her cheek, her chin, her sensitive neck. Eliza dug her fingernails into his shoulders, holding on as tightly as she could, afraid that if she let him go, even a little bit, she would fall away from him. 

At some point while her eyes were closed, he spun them around, staggering to the nearby bed. They fell onto the mattress without breaking their rhythm, Ford above her, staring down at her, watching her every expression, catching each flicker of emotion dance across her face. She stared at him as well, entranced by his familiar face, as though she was seeing it for the first time. 

They finally caught each other’s eyes, locked in long stare that neither could break. The moment seemed to stretch between them for an eternity, finally crashing around their heads as they both shuddered with the force of their joint orgasms. 

Eliza sighed, her smile making words unnecessary. Ford rested his forehead against her shoulder, his tongue occasionally darting out to taste her skin. Eliza kept her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him inside of her until he hardened again, stretching her flesh to once again accommodate him. 

Without speaking, he began to rock his hips again, but the movement was small, almost imperceptible. Each time he rocked forward, a million chills shook her body. Her sensitive, hot body responded to each touch, each small thrust, each brush of his lips against her skin. Delight rolled through her body, carrying her on gentle waves from one level of pleasure to the next, her sensitivity and need growing by the second. Eliza allowed him to control everything, not fighting for more, or struggling to make him move faster. 

She opened her mouth to accept his slow, languid, exploratory kisses. He moved as if they were underwater, as if the air itself offered resistance to their union. Eliza didn’t mind. She didn’t want it to end. She wanted feel him inside of her and above her, wanted him to surround her, wanted him to guide her, to love her with his body until there was nothing left of either of them. 

She didn’t reach a point of climax…or she never left the point of climax. Eliza didn’t know. All she knew was that after the most harrying days and weeks of her life—weeks that would leave her scarred physically and emotionally—she finally felt secure, safe, delicate like melting sugar, but strong too, in his arms. 

Their foreheads touched as he relaxed, shivering with his final thrust. They both released shaking breaths, trying to understand the feelings they saw reflected in each other’s shining eyes. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. 

“For what?” 

“Agreeing to be my wife.” 

“I don’t think I ever had a choice.” 

“You’re a free woman, remember? You can come and go as you please.” 

“I’m still a free woman? I thought I belonged to you now,” she said, flashing her ring. 

“I don’t make any claims to ownership.” Ford kissed her forehead, slowly disentangling himself from her. “I don’t think I’d love you as much if you allowed me to do that.” 

Eliza rested her head against his chest as he stretched out beside her. “Tell me about California.” 

“Again?” 

“I like to hear about it.” 

Ford nodded, the most beautiful words falling from his mouth and painting a picture of mutual joy, sublime contentment, and a long, quiet life nestled in the prettiest country God ever touched. 

  
**The End**


End file.
